


twice over

by raviiel



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Domestic, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mark Lee is a Good Friend, Pining, Roommates, Self-Discovery, Sweet Lee Taeyong, Sweet Mark Lee (NCT), Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas is a Panicked Gay, except he doesn't know it, except not exactly, he's also a crybaby, it just sorta happened tho, lucas is a genius math major and a dumbass emotions dealer, strap in lads this one's a long one, that's literally the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raviiel/pseuds/raviiel
Summary: Yukhei is a people person. He doesn't consider himself one, heisone. His nature is to get along with everyone he meets and make a friend out of a stranger or an acquaintance. It happens naturally, which is why he didn't have any preferences for a roommate. He'd been sure that whoever accepted the offer, friendship was inevitable.Enter Doyoung, and, well.Thatwas a shit notion.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas/Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Mark Lee & Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Nakamoto Yuta & Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 125





	twice over

Yukhei is a people person. He doesn't consider himself one, he _is_ one. His nature is to get along with everyone he meets and make a friend out of a stranger or an acquaintance. It happens naturally, which is why he didn't have any preferences for a roommate. He'd been sure that whoever accepted the offer, friendship was inevitable.

Well. _That_ was a shit notion.

Ever since Doyoung moved in, Yukhei has made _zero_ progress in getting any closer to him. To this day, some four months after they became roommates, the most they've talked is when they'd laid the ground rules for living together. Shared class schedules, how their quarters would affect when they came in and out, any work hours they had, showering times, cleaning up after themselves, eating together and separately, et cetera, et cetera.

Don't get him wrong, Yukhei _tries,_ but Doyoung is... slippery. Not slippery—straight up evasive. It's probably nicer to say that he's extremely private. Though they shared their schedules, Yukhei could honestly not say what Doyoung does in a day if someone asked.

Other than greetings, goodbyes, and brief check-ups, it's basically the same as living alone. Dramatic as it might be, it's a little... alienating for a social butterfly like Yukhei. With Doyoung, he's out of his depth. Those cold (albeit handsome) looks are intimidating, even if he is the taller of the two of them; that's what makes it hard for Yukhei to approach him, even talk to him outside of acknowledging each other's existences.

Yukhei more or less gives up any and all chances of ever being friendly with him, resigning himself to a chilly home life.

Until Doyoung brings someone home.

Yukhei's brain-to-mouth filter has never been all that great (most people would say it's nonexistent), which is why when he's in their small living room, legs folded on the couch while uncomfortably bent over textbooks, and looks up to see someone following Doyoung _inside,_ he blurts,

"Is that your boyfriend?"

They stop in their tracks.

The guy Doyoung brought with him is, for all of Yukhei's brain failing him, hot. His features are sharper than Doyoung's, jaw and cheekbones more defined, nose straighter, lips not as bowed.

When the stranger's eyes flicker to Doyoung, Yukhei belatedly realizes he one, said that so _intrusively_ and two, created a strained atmosphere, which is the last thing anyone in this apartment needed. How is it that he's automatically assumed the guy is the boyfriend, and not just some... guy-friend? Just some friend? But Doyoung has _never_ brought anyone home before, to the point where Yukhei thought he might be completely anti-social. The fact of the matter is that if he brought someone back, they must be important, right?

Doyoung studies Yukhei for a long moment—scrutinizes him—all breaths held, and Yukhei feels picked apart on the spot, tongue thick in his mouth and throat closing up. The longer Doyoung stares, the more his skin prickles, heavy and suffocating.

"Doyoung," interrupts his guest, eyes curving kindly as his voice seems to want to temper the tension.

Whatever long, complicated, and likely thoroughly-detailed plot Doyoung is cooking for Yukhei's untimely disappearance halts at the coaxing, and he looks back at his guest, who nods at him. Yukhei, for all of his tactlessness, can see how close they are by the way their faces speak everything to each other in a way no one else can decipher. Him and his big mouth, but he's dying to know if his hunch is correct.

Sighing in defeat, Doyoung looks back at him, expression indecipherable. Yukhei is a big boy, bigger than both of them, but under Doyoung's examination, he feels very small.

"Yes." he answers flatly. "He is." He gestures between them. "Taeyong, this is Yukhei. Yukhei, Taeyong."

Taeyong, much less intimidating than he looks, smiles at Yukhei to buffer how Doyoung is trying to murder him with sharpened eyes alone.

"It's nice to meet you, Yukhei," he says easily. "Dongyoung told me he had a roommate, but he didn't say much about you."

_Dongyoung...?_ Yukhei asks himself.

"I—" His eyes flicker between them and he licks his lips, hoping it doesn't look nervous. "Yeah... Hi—Hello." He quickly stands up, realizing he's probably being extremely rude by greeting someone possibly older than him by sitting down. He offers a hand with the other at his stomach. "It's," his voice cracks and he quickly clears it, glancing with embarrassed apprehension at Doyoung, "it's nice to meet you too."

Taeyong graciously doesn't laugh—what an angel—only smiling wider and shaking his hand. "Please, you don't have to be so formal."

Before Yukhei can reply, Doyoung clears his throat and speaks up.

"Right," he cuts in firmly. "Well, I'm glad you two are well-acquainted now." The way he steps effectively blocks Yukhei off from Taeyong, and he looks pointedly at Yukhei's textbooks and notes. "I know for a fact that you need all the studying you can get for that class."

Dense as he may be, Yukhei can tell Doyoung wants an out from having to suffer through anymore of his boyfriend and the roommate he obviously hates interacting, so he hurriedly nods and steps back.

"Yeah, sorry. You can, uh," he motions awkwardly in the direction of their rooms. "Yeah. Sorry. Have... fun?"

Doyoung snorts.

Oh god, he wants to smack himself. Humiliation burning at his face, he quickly turns away and ponders the logistics of using a ridiculously heavy textbook as a burial ground. He makes a whole show of putting his earbuds in but doesn't actually play any music, instead opting to listen but not watch Doyoung lead Taeyong to his bedroom.

As they walk away, he hears Taeyong chide Doyoung a little. _"Are you always that mean to him?"_

Doyoung only snorts again. It feels like a punch to the gut. One of his first genuine interactions with his roommate, and it went down in flames.

  
  


He doesn't see either of them for the rest of the night. Taeyong probably doesn't stay over, seeing as Yukhei doesn't hear any... extracurricular activities from the wall that separates his bedroom from Doyoung's (these walls are thin as hell, and Yukhei knows because Doyoung had _not_ been afraid that one time to tell him to keep it down when he was jerking off).

When he's laying in bed, he thinks about them. Taeyong seems nice. (He's hot, too.) Yukhei hadn't known that Doyoung was dating anyone, much less that he's gay—and that's fine. Yukhei has absolutely no problem with that.

Except the concept runs tireless circles in his head as he lays there. Doyoung is gay. Doyoung has a boyfriend. Doyoung's name is probably actually Dongyoung, and Yukhei never would've known if Taeyong, Doyoung's boyfriend, hadn't called him that.

His face pinches. Foreboding settles in his gut as he tries to sort through these thoughts, begging himself not to draw a conclusion that ends with him being a shit person.

Doyoung is gay. Doyoung has a boyfriend. An attractive guy dating an equally attractive guy, and yes, he'd be a clown to not admit both of them aren't attractive. Nothing's wrong with that.

He turns and groans into his pillow.

  
  


Yukhei wants to be as casual and accepting of this as possible, but bringing it up feels like oral exams all over again. Doyoung had probably _definitely_ tried to vaporize him with his gaze yesterday because of the Taeyong Situation, maybe thinking Yukhei would have a bad reaction to finding out that Doyoung is dating, and is, in fact, gay. (There he goes, fixating on it again.)

He soldiers through early afternoon classes, trying his damnedest not to let every other thought be distracted by his roommate. He fails spectacularly.

Doyoung, who is Dongyoung, is gay, and Yukhei probably never would've known that either if it weren't for Taeyong. And on their first meeting? Four and a half months in, and Doyoung never told him shit about dating someone! Would he have ever? That feels so bad. Why does that feel so shitty? Dissecting it is scary, but what's scarier is not knowing why he won't let go of it.

He wants to think it's because he'd tried for _months_ to know even the smallest thing about Doyoung, who just... refused to let him in. That doesn't mean he's entitled to know jack-shit if that's what Doyoung ultimately wants, but Yukhei won't pretend it doesn't sting just a little.

Relying on him to bring it up will definitely be a dead end since, again, four and a half months of not deigning Yukhei important enough to know literally _anything_ about him, so Yukhei is on his own for this one.

He waits a few days to gauge Doyoung's workload, something always pretty heavy since they met and only getting heavier by the day, proportional to the bags under his eyes. He hasn't brought Taeyong around again, and Yukhei struggles with the bizarre relief-disappointment of it, pushing away potential horrible revelations about himself to a deep, dark corner of his mind.

Finally, a night comes when Doyoung mentions he'll be using the living room to work because he needs the space for a project that he'll be working on into the night. Yukhei might not know much about him (yet, not yet, he's determined to work on it), but he _does_ know that work consumes Doyoung so wholly that he forgets to eat or drink anything, so he decides to bring home hot pot takeout and a six-pack of light beer.

Doyoung's stomach growls loudly as soon as the aroma of the food swamps the apartment. Yukhei can't help but laugh, earning him a puncturing glare.

"Sorry, sorry," he quickly apologizes, going to the small kitchen counter. "I know, uh—I mean. I figured you haven't eaten yet, so I..." He swallows. "I brought dinner for us." He also lifts and wiggles the six-pack. "And some beer. Not the heavy stuff, though, I know you're working..."

Doyoung's eyebrows raise minutely, but Yukhei counts it as a victory, no matter how small. He wants to be a good roommate. He wants to do nice things for Doyoung. He doesn't want to be an asshole. Or treat him differently because he's gay.

_No, bad, go._ He shoos those thoughts away.

"Thanks," Doyoung says slowly, maybe a little suspiciously. "I'll have some later."

Yukhei won't give in that easily. He wiggles the six-pack again. "C'mon, c'mon. I know you've been working for hours. Your spine's gonna get stuck like that. Take a break and eat something!"

By the way he hesitates, Doyoung seems to weigh his options. At last, he sighs, and Yukhei knows another small victory fits itself under his belt.

"Alright, fine. Let me just clear this away and we can use this table..."

"Need help?" Yukhei asks, too eagerly by the way Doyoung pauses to look at him like he's strange.

"No," he says. "...Thank you, though."

Yukhei stops from patting himself on the back for these little wins; this is normal roommate stuff. He wants to be a good roommate. Who Doyoung is, who he likes, who he dates, isn't important. He busies himself with unpacking the food and getting a beer for each of them.

"Jeongol?" asks Doyoung, sounding surprised when he looks at the containers.

Panic sparks in Yukhei's stomach, eyes widening. "Shit, do you not like—?" Leave it to him to fuck up a peace offering.

"Yukhei," Doyoung says patiently, and Yukhei zips his mouth shut. His voice hesitates and lowers on his next words. "...Hot pot is my favorite."

Yukhei can't believe his ears, shown by the way he blinks several times. He _didn't_ unimaginably fuck up, _and_ nailed picking out Doyoung's favorite food? Holy shit. He doesn't say anything though, just nods with a squeak and helps get the food and drink to the table.

When they're finally settled and eating, quietly passing the few side dishes between them and watching mindless television, Yukhei has finally worked up enough nerve to bring up Taeyong.

"Your," he forces himself not to stumble over the next word, "boyfriend was nice. I like him."

Doyoung chokes. Yukhei startles, eyes bugging as he instinctively pats him through his hacking, reaching for the water set aside instead of a beer can.

"You good?" He asks on the edge of frantic. "God, I'm sorry, are you—"

Doyoung forcibly waves him off, accepting the water and taking as much of it as he can without drowning. He clears his throat several times.

"You c-an stop patti-ng me now. I'm n-ot a dog." A few words trip up his raspy voice, but he's still breathing, so Yukhei tucks away thoughts of panicking while performing the heimlich maneuver.

"I—...Sorry." He's apologizing for both bringing Taeyong up and almost killing him, but Doyoung will never know which takes priority.

"It's fine." He takes a breath. "That's... good. That you like him. He likes you too."

Yukhei's heart leaps at that. He licks his lips. "Yeah? That's... yeah. That's cool. I'm glad. He's... cool."

A long, lingering silence fills between them as neither go for more food or drink. Doyoung eventually sets his chopsticks down, decisive, and turns to look Yukhei right in the eye. Yukhei stiffens, subconsciously leaning away.

"Yukhei." he says firmly.

"...Y-Yes?" he squeaks back.

Doyoung's eyes roam his face, peeling him layer by layer. They narrow just slightly.

"Don't make this weird."

Yukhei's eyes flicker to his shapely mouth, watching the words form firmly. His cupid's bow is so pronounced. Yukhei likes it. His stomach flips oddly.

"Huh?" he blurts, too distracted.

Doyoung's eyes harden. "Do not. Make this weird, I said," he repeats, more darkly. Something grim lines his face like he has certain expectations, expectations that line up with Yukhei's worries now all rushing back to him. "Don't be that kind of person."

Yukhei wants to play dumb because he's been doing it so well in his own head for the last near-week, but Doyoung is entirely serious, and it cosigns Yukhei to death if he fucks up here and now.

"No, no!" One hand waves in a rush between them. "It's cool, I swear! For real, it's cool. I'm not... I'm glad for you. Taeyong's probably real good for you, you know?" He's shooting in the dark, but he'll do anything right now to prove they're fine, that he doesn't care. He doesn't care. He doesn't. _Doesn't._

Again, Doyoung watches him, seems to search for any trace of a lie, and Yukhei projects as much earnestness as he can. He doesn't want Doyoung to feel uncomfortable around him, for more walls to build themselves between them—worse, he doesn't want to lose Doyoung as a roommate. Their relationship might not be ideal and might be rocky right now, but no matter what, Yukhei is determined to hem this distance between them.

_That's a good sign, right?_ he asks his subconscious, folding that dark corner deeper and deeper away.

"...Right," Doyoung finally replies. "Thanks."

Yukhei feels like he can breathe again when Doyoung turns away to get back to eating. He watches him take an alarmingly deep swig of his beer and can't help how his eyes catch on his adam's apple bobbing a few times as the thing is practically knocked down the hatch in its entirety. It's so... prominent. The shape would be nice to trace—

Heat rising in his cheeks, he turns away too, mirroring the action to untangle his mind.

The beer only enhances the thoughts, making them spiral, spiral, spiral, even when he's dizzy in bed and curling fists into his sheets to keep them from going into his pants.

Doyoung might be gay, but as far as Yukhei knows himself, he... is not. That's a whole can of worms he's never thought of opening, but even if he wanted to... Doyoung has a boyfriend.

It stings.

  
  


Things are easier after that night. Just a little bit. Doyoung seems to stop waiting on Yukhei to like, snap or something, and they even begin to spend more time around each other. They were barely ever in the same room for five minutes before, so _anything_ is an improvement on that, but now Yukhei doesn't feel obligated to leave whenever Doyoung comes in. Progress!

On top of that, Doyoung seems to be opening up a little too. Yukhei begins to realize that he's actually attentive and caring, noticing things about Yukhei's habits that he himself never paid attention to. Yukhei likes it; he likes being seen in his home, likes feeling like it's okay to be here instead of curbing himself and curating every single one of his actions to avoid pissing off Doyoung somehow.

"Do you like these?" is the first thing Doyoung asks when he comes into the apartment, half-distracted with taking off his bag and avoiding a plastic one snagging on knobs or clothes.

Yukhei looks up, wiggling a pencil between his fingers. "Huh?"

Out of the bag, Doyoung pulls a green package with cylindrical wafers and mangoes printed on it. Yukhei raises his eyebrows at the Thai text on it as Doyoung hands it over, standing adjacent to him.

"A friend gave these to me," he shifts awkwardly. "You said your mom is Thai, right? I thought... You don't have to eat them, if you don't want. He said they weren't too sweet though, I know you don't like things that are too sweet."

Yukhei blinks several times, the words slow to process through the conveyor belts of his neurons. He never shuts about his mom (he just loves her so much!), but only ever mentioned she was Thai exactly once, and then he doesn't even remember revealing how he feels about overly sweet foods—though that's true, they always ache in his stomach afterwards. He's never had this snack, favoring more savory ones, but this is... He's not about to turn this down. His lips quirk.

"Hey, no sweat." He sets his pencil down and pops the package open without hesitation. The aroma of sweet wafer wafts upwards and he grins, patting the seat next to him. "If your friend gave it to you, how 'bout we share? Is that cool?"

The offer seems to surprise Doyoung, but what surprises Yukhei is that he accepts and settles down, not hesitating to reach in first. Yukhei watches him raise the cookie to his mouth and bite out of it, promptly shattering the whole thing into the waiting palm under his chin, and he squeaks before making one of _thee_ cutest expressions Yukhei has ever witnessed.

Doyoung immediately narrows his eyes over. "Don't you dare make a mess with these—you better clean up after yourself."

Yukhei playfully (lightly, carefully, boundaries: still currently being tested) nudges him in the side. "You too! We're sharing, aren't we?"

Rolling his eyes, Doyoung eats the rest and the crumbs, then goes for another, only to shove it into Yukhei's face. "Here, you brat."

Yukhei's stomach flutters and he opens his mouth without thinking, instead of taking the wafer like a normal person who still isn't completely familiar with the person he lives with. Doyoung luckily doesn't seem to think anything of it, pushing the thing into his mouth, and he bites down before it's fully in, crumbs littering his lap.

"What did I _just_ say," Doyoung scolds, but there's no heat to it. "Hey, do you have cotton in your ears?"

Foreboding spikes low in Yukhei's gut as he realizes what comes next at Doyoung's hand moving, and he panics. "No, I got it!" His high-pitched screech makes Doyoung flinch, but he shoots to his feet, launching the mess onto the floor.

"Yukhei!"

"Sorry, sorry!" His heart hammers aggressively in his chest as he forcibly removes any and all thoughts. Head empty. Stay empty.

Doyoung is too busy complaining to notice his mortification, thank god. He's—This is. Not fair at all in any way. Still, the wafer cookie had been _good,_ not too sweet at all, and Yukhei thinks that he has to return the favor as he watches Doyoung get their hand vacuum and grumble all the while.

The fact that Doyoung pays attention to him, what he says... His heart dances elatedly in secret.

It escalates into them bringing each other snacks, then convenience store meals, and eventually full-on take out to the point where they trade off who pays while sharing it during late nights in the living room. Doyoung seems to realize food is the fastest way to Yukhei's heart—truth, completely truth, and maybe he wishes it was meant like _that—_ and Yukhei realizes that it and television are a blessed combination that becomes the catalyst for their full-on friendship. He'd cry about it all the time forever if it wasn't socially objectionable.

Turns out, Doyoung is a big fan of thriller dramas like Yukhei, and sometimes Yukhei will impersonate the overly-cool actors on screen, reducing Doyoung to laughter every time.

_"I'll do everything I can until you forgive me,"_ Yukhei mimics in a dramatically deep voice, chest puffed and shoulders squared.

"How do you do that so well!" Doyoung is delighted, falling back and covering his opened mouth. "Seriously though, he's nicer than me—he was just trying to protect her, and that's how she repays him?"

"Give her a break, hyung!" Hyung. Hah. It's quickly becoming familiar and at home on his tongue. "She just found out everything she knew was a lie, how's she supposed to react?"

Whenever an episode ends, they devolve into discussion over it that lasts longer than the show itself; Doyoung talking for that long is some kind of Twilight Zone miracle, honestly. Yukhei isn't all that detail-oriented, but he's grown to love listening to him point out things he'd never notice in a million years. It's fun. A lot of fun.

Talking to Doyoung at all is a lot of fun. Learning new things about him is, too.

Yukhei is probably worrying for nothing.

  
  


And then Doyoung brings Taeyong over again. Yukhei is shirt-free, stock-still in the kitchen where he'd been slurping ramyun—it's not like he expected Doyoung to come back home so early in the day! Normally, it wouldn't be such an issue; Doyoung has seen him shirtless probably one time too many since most people would say he's allergic to shirts nine times out of ten, so it's fine. Until Taeyong follows in right behind him.

Noodles dangle from chopsticks halfway to his mouth opened stupidly as he makes direct eye contact with Taeyong. Embarrassment (no, it feels too potent and sharp to be just embarrassment) swirls in the pit of his stomach the moment Taeyong's eyes leave his to trail down what the countertop isn't hiding.

"Yukhei."

Doyoung's voice breaks the spell, and Taeyong looks away.

Freed from that gaze and spurred by the puzzled sound of his name, Yukhei scrambles out of the kitchen and practically flies into his room, door slamming in his wake as they walk further in. It echoes in the silence.

Chest heaving like a marathon has run him into the pavement, Yukhei hurries to pull on a shirt. He startles at a knock rapped on his door.

_"Yukhei?"_ asks Doyoung's voice, concerned. _"Is everything okay?"_

Flushed and panting, Yukhei calls back a cracked, "Yeah, I'm good. I'm cool!"

"Okay..." Doyoung's tone is skeptical, but his footsteps carry away anyway.

Yukhei steadies himself, pinking down his neck. His eyes squeeze shut, but all he sees is Taeyong looking at him again, so they snap back open and his head tilts towards the ceiling, overwhelmed.

What the _hell_ is wrong with him? Why's he so fazed? Not even fazed—straight up _bashful._

...Taeyong's eyes are fucking _crazy._ Not crazy like unhinged, but crazy like _How the hell are you so soft but your eyes pierce like arrows?_ Shit, that's... That's messed up. He has to be making this up in his overwrought head. It's only Taeyong, who's a nice guy from what he knows the single (once, one time) they met along with Doyoung's occasional shallow anecdotes. Obviously, he doesn't want to leave a bad impression, doesn't want to risk the couple talking shit behind his back.

God. Doyoung talking shit about him in secret would break him.

His chest twinges.

Several minutes pass of Yukhei pep-talking himself back out of the room. Luckily, the couple is nowhere in sight and Doyoung's adjacent door is closed, music softly streaming out between its cracks. His face screws up, but he quickly schools it away from what's probably an unkind glare. Unease churns in his stomach. Why does he care if they're in the privacy of Doyoung's room? He's not their keeper—what they do isn't any of his business.

His hands scrub through his dark hair as he goes back to the kitchen to return to the abandoned ramyun.

God. Is it disgust? Is that what this is? He wants to bang his head against the wall. This feeling is shitty. _He's_ shitty.

_Don't make it weird, Yukhei. Don't be an asshole._

So instead, he just avoids them. Not only that day, but every other day Taeyong comes over too. He finds excuses—stupid, shitty excuses, but get-out-of-jail-free cards nonetheless. He doesn't want to see them together, being all... soft around each other and stuff. And Doyoung _is_ mushy for Taeyong, no matter if he admits it or not. (Not that he blames him; has anyone _seen_ Taeyong? All he'd have to do is insinuate about wanting someone to lay in the middle of a street with oncoming traffic and people would by lining up by the dozens. Yukhei among them. Probably.)

Yukhei tries to reason with himself; he's never had issues with couples doing couple-things before, so why now? Why them? The obvious is... No, nope. He's not going there.

Except he does.

Some deeply concealed part of himself worries that if they were a heterosexual couple, this whole... crisis wouldn't be happening. It wouldn't. It wouldn't live in his brain rent-free, and he hates himself for that. It takes everything he has to stop from blabbering unintelligible apologies to Doyoung for being a judgmental, _bigoted_ piece of shit.

He thought he was a good person, but being wrong _and_ discovering it like this? He'll _pay_ someone to carve out his organs, one by one and offer them to Doyoung in atonement.

Avoiding them ends up being a bad idea. Shocking, truly.

He's able to sit through a variety show for all of five minutes before he has to repress a visceral reaction to Taeyong strewing his legs over Doyoung's lap. They just settled down but heat already smarts under his skin, circulating uncomfortably through his chest at the sight of them.

He groans with showmanship, and they both look at him as he flops over the arm of the couch.

"Just remembered," he tries to sound disappointed, "I have a statistics spreadsheet on the stats of people injured by birds versus people injured by camera drones—don't ask me what the correlation is, I have nooo idea—due in two days and I... Man, I haven't even started yet."

"...Fascinating." Doyoung deadpans. "We just started, can it really not wait?"

He peeks over from where his face is buried in the fabric of a pillow. "No... If I don't do it now, I never will. Why'd you let me become a math major, hyung?"

"And that's my fault, how? You picked that track long before we met, brat."

"Have some sympathy!"

Taeyong watches with a fond smile that Yukhei pointedly pretends not to see. He'll fall apart on the spot.

"Seriously though," Doyoung goes on as Yukhei drags himself to the edge of the couch, "you always have some random assignment popping up these days, we hardly see you."

The tone is harmless—purposefully, Yukhei thinks, but he doesn't want to hang up on it because one look at Doyoung will make him fold like bad poker hand. The power he has over him: awful. He plays it off though because what other choice does he have?

He shimmies playfully. "Aw, does hyung miss me? I feel so special," he singsongs.

"Yes." Doyoung says bluntly, and it knocks all the air from Yukhei's lungs as he chokes on spit.

"Are you okay?" Taeyong hurriedly sits up and crawls across Doyoung to rub at his back, and when Yukhei feels the touch, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Dear lord, what's _wrong_ with you?" Doyoung asks, brows sky-high. "You're a mess."

Yukhei all but rolls off the couch, uselessly banging at his tight chest with a fist. Taeyong's hand is so _warm,_ and for what?

"S-orry, sor-ry," he coughs, trying and failing to clear his throat. Sincere honesty is lethal, and Doyoung is the proof. How could he _say_ something like that without hesitation? He clearly still has a murder agenda for Yukhei.

When he finally feels like his heart won't pop right through his ribs, he looks at them. "Sorry, hyung. For bailing, I mean." And he does mean it. A lot. "I'll try to make it up to you."

Doyoung frowns at him and glances at Taeyong, who nods encouragingly.

"Fine," he sighs, "we'll just watch it without you. Do your best."

Weird that he'd be disappointed about Yukhei leaving him alone with his boyfriend. Shouldn't couples want as much alone-time as they can get? They're both students too, all of them are ridiculously busy, and downtime is like a needle in a haystack, no magnets allowed.

"Thanks." He heads for his room and pretends they don't watch his every step. "Hope the show's fun."

"We'll see you, Yukhei-yah. Good luck!" Taeyong cheers.

Warmed, Yukhei quirks a half(hearted)-smile at him, but then accidentally checks past him at Doyoung. Displeasure radiates off him in waves so tangible, they prickle at Yukhei's skin; it's easy to say why. Yukhei has, like said before, constantly been blowing them off for assignments that may or may not actually exist.

He escapes to his room.

It circles back around to strain when they're alone, like they're reverting to the early days of living together before Yukhei made a breakthrough in interacting with his roommate.

_"Oh, decided to join us for once?"_

Distress settles in the pit of his stomach at the idea of Doyoung hating him—actually, truly, _genuinely_ hating him—so he switches into self-discipline tactics and starts to stick it out.

Taeyong, at some point, must've noticed his freak behavior because when he stops leaving as soon as he shows up, his greetings are tentative and careful, though polite.

Yukhei is garbage. An absolute piece of shit. Taeyong is so nice. So good for Doyoung. They make such a nice couple.

He will not openly admit how he's starting to think he hates that.

  
  


For a while, he manages to keep in check admirably. He eases into being around Doyoung and Taeyong, and they seem to ease into being back around him too. He chokes back any ill feelings around them, and everything is fine. Just dandy.

Until it isn't.

Yukhei fumbles to pause the movie they're watching when Doyoung's phone goes off as he sits between he and Taeyong. By the click of his tongue, it's a call he can't ignore, and he excuses himself, annoyed. Yukhei and Taeyong watch him go, and as soon as his bedroom door closes, stifling silence shutters the room.

The screen is suddenly much more interesting than five minutes ago when he'd been trying not to focus on Doyoung's body heat near him, when Taeyong's presence didn't bore into his mind like UV rays beaming onto his skin.

Swallowing thickly, he pulls out his phone, adding a conversational, "Wonder who that was."

Taeyong makes a noncommittal noise. "Classmate, maybe."

The topic dies an agonizing death. Yukhei anchors his sanity to his phone, thoughts meticulously kept unsnarled of anything that involved Taeyong or Doyoung. He astonishingly succeeds, and then Doyoung comes back out. Those heavy steps are nothing but irritated now.

He sighs, shoving his phone into his pocket and shifting most of his weight to one leg, hand on his hip. He jams a thumb at the door.

"One of my professor's TAs isn't answering their damn phone, so now I have to go out and play substitute." He pauses, looking between them. Yukhei peeks up from his phone he'd been trying to hide behind, and Doyoung focuses on Taeyong. "Would you like to stay and wait for me, or I can take you home?"

Yukhei's stomach swoops at how Taeyong glances between he and Doyoung, and he prays and prays and prays that he'll leave— _Keep it to yourself, keep it to yourself, keep it to yourself—_ but he smiles and shakes his head.

"I'll hang around and wait. You think you'll be long?"

Doyoung shakes his wrist to check his watch. "I hope not, this is ridiculous. If I'm not back by eight, you can go—or stay the night, it doesn't matter to me. You should eat something, too." He glances at Yukhei. "You too. Get something together."

Yukhei manages his best smile. "Sure!" He stops himself from nudging Taeyong. "It'll be cool, we can buy on Do-hyung."

Doyoung rolls his eyes at the nickname Yukhei gave him weeks back.

"That's fine, just clean up after yourselves, _please."_ He comes back over to the couch after collecting a few belongings and leans over to kiss Taeyong on the temple. "See you later."

Taeyong smiles softly after him, saying to be careful. Yukhei covers up his sudden agitation by announcing a boisterous, "Bye, hyung!"

When the front door closes, silence suffocates the apartment once again. Yukhei laughs nervously, grabbing for the remote again.

"Wanna finish watching the movie?" he asks in spite of being completely disinterested and wanting to melt away.

"Sure, we can do that," Taeyong replies, putting his phone away.

The movie starts again, muffling the tension between them. Yukhei doesn't even know if Taeyong feels it like he does. He hopes not—Taeyong doesn't deserve that.

He forcefully pours all of his focus into the movie, committing every frame and word of dialogue to memory for no other reason than to distract himself. The distance between their seats is too small for his liking, like their arms are pressed together and they're stuck in a terrifyingly small room.

The movie's run time feels unfairly short, and before he knows it, the credits are rolling, a melancholic song guiding hundreds of names up the screen. He slips into his pocket again to find comfort in his phone—

"You don't like me, do you?"

Yukhei chokes on his spit.

"Wh-What—I—" His eyes threaten to pop out of his skull as he gapes at Taeyong, panicked. Taeyong looks back at him, not any kind of angry (not any kind of angry he should be if he only knew the shit Yukhei'd been putting up with from himself), but... demure. Sad. Yukhei laughs a nearly hysterical noise. "No, I—Why would you think that?"

Taeyong's eyebrows tent slightly, eyes lowering. He hums. "Call it a hunch, I guess."

The panic starts rearing into full swing, and Yukhei frantically waves both hands. "No, no! I don't—You're alright, you're fine, you're cool, I swear!" His voice pitches too loud, making Taeyong wince. He winces in turn too, shrinking on himself. "Sorry, I'm sorry, you're—No, I don't—God." His face falls into his hands, tears suddenly burning at his eyes as he tries to laugh in self-deprecation.

A gentle hand falls to his shoulder and he blanches like it burns, looking again at Taeyong with wide eyes. He looks apologetic, smile crooked and halfhearted on his face.

"Sorry, Yukhei-yah. Forget I said anything. That was—" He clears his throat awkwardly. "That was messed up of me."

_Oh, now you realize!_ screams a small voice in the back of Yukhei's head, but he smothers it because _god,_ Taeyong doesn't deserve this bullshit. If Doyoung finds out— _If Doyoung finds out—_

"Food," Yukhei blurts. "Hungry? I know I said hyung would buy, but I'll—"

Seeing the pathetic effort for what it is, Taeyong's smile brightens a little. He shakes his head. "Don't worry, I'll pay."

"Th-Then!" This stupid stutter! "Then you can pick." Taeyong opens his mouth, probably to object, but Yukhei gets there first. "I'm serious. You pay, you pick. Really, it's cool!" His voice is still too strained, but he's _trying._

Huffing in good nature, Taeyong finally nods. "I hope you like jjimdak."

_Food,_ Yukhei thinks. Food will get him through this.

And then... He needs to get his shit together.

  
  


Food does get him through it, especially because the green chili pepper burns his tongue enough that his brain doesn't have to think too much about all of its troubles.

"I told you to slow down," Taeyong laughs as he slumps back against the base of the couch, groaning.

"The broth though... So good..." He rubs his belly and feels too full, having eaten his thoughts away and drowned his stomach in ganjang sauce. "Can't move..."

"You did eat more than half of it," Taeyong points out, wiping his hands and getting up. "Don't worry, I'll clean this up."

At the offer, Yukhei's synapses spark back into action. Doyoung would murder him if he found out Taeyong cleaned up after him while he just sat around.

"Just... Gimme a hot sec, I'll help," he says weakly, regretting every life choice that lead him here.

"Don't strain yourself, Yukhei-yah," Taeyong reprimands teasingly, masterfully balancing plastic dishes in his arms to put back into the takeout bag for trash.

Eating a ton always makes him so sleepy, but he determinedly climbs to his feet anyway, rubs at his eyes, and begins to collect trash too. They quietly move around each other, and Yukhei vaguely thinks about, as he holds open a bag for Taeyong to put trash in, if this is what it'd be like to live with him. He wonders why Doyoung and Taeyong don't live together in the first place, but it's none of his business. It'd be pretty different, he thinks.

Their hands brush as Taeyong takes the bag from him, and he goes very still, eyes falling onto Taeyong's face as he concentrates on tying the bag; the way his eyelashes fan over his cheeks... So pretty. He shakes the thought out, going for his slippers and jacket.

"I'll take it out."

Taeyong smiles at him in a perfect curve of his pink lips. "Thanks. Be careful."

In the night air, Yukhei shakes himself out. He loves how his head can't make up its damn mind on how it wants to feel about Taeyong. Does he like him, or does he not? How does that work with how he feels about Doyoung? And how _does_ he feel about Doyoung?

Shit. He's attending university for pure mathematics, not _emotions._ He's starting to think he picked the wrong major.

When he comes back inside after lingering to sharpen up the edges of his fuzzy brain, he discovers Taeyong on the couch, dozed off. He blinks several times.

_That's... That's precious,_ he thinks helplessly. God, how could ever hate someone like that?

He quietly moves around the apartment to take off his jacket and slippers, and then goes into the closet next to the door, wincing at how it squeaks on the hinges, before pulling out one of their spare blankets. As gently as he can, he unfolds it and lays it over Taeyong, but the wind makes Taeyong's eyelids flutter open.

"Oh..." he says drowsily, and shifts to start sitting up. "Fell asleep, sorry..."

"No, no," Yukhei says quickly. "It's alright. You look tired, you should go to bed. Doyoung-hyung probably won't be back until later, I guess..."

Taeyong smiles sleepily at him and his heart flutters dangerously. When he pats the seat next to him, his blood starts to pump fast.

"I, um..." His brain flounders for any straws of excuses he can pull, but Taeyong is already dozing off again, and all he can uselessly think is, _What the hell._

Tentatively, he sits on the couch, tucking the blanket so he doesn't get under it because that'd be insane, he'd never survive it, and pulls out his phone. He'll wait up for Doyoung.

_This is nice,_ he thinks, and wonders if all of his worries are for nothing. He doesn't even notice when he falls asleep too, seamlessly drifting in while soothed by Taeyong's warmth, the blanket's softness, and the cushion of the couch.

When, an hour later, Doyoung finally comes home, he pauses at the sight of Taeyong's head leaned on Yukhei's shoulder and Yukhei's head leaned back on his, a phone abandoned in his lap. He blinks at the sight, and then smiles with enamor to himself, deciding to snap a picture and save it privately.

  
  


Getting his shit together starts with confronting the disturbing root of the problem: Yukhei might be homophobic. He's genuinely never given it thought before, being the type who accepted everything he faced in stride and with a smile. His parents always taught him to treat others kindly and hope that they'd return that kindness, and sure, Yukhei's made jokes at his friends' expenses before, but never with malice.

Over the next few days, he starts to browse online forums and other communities in search answers and guidance. He's never been all that internet-savvy, but this journey takes him through corners of the web he didn't know even existed—he learns that the online world is a much safer (not safer, but the vague anonymity of it helps a lot) place for homosexual people (no, LGBT+ people, and he learned what that acronym meant!) to be more themselves than they're allowed to be offline.

Has Doyoung—or Taeyong—ever shared their stories like this? Did either of them ever feel like they were cornered enough that the only people they could turn to were strangers possibly hundreds of miles away? It's devastating to think all of these people had and do feel so alone.

That still doesn't answer why he feels the way he feels about Taeyong—Doyoung—both of them. How even _does_ he feel? He's barely taken time to dissect that either. Being around Doyoung is... good. Nice. Yukhei likes it—a lot. Doyoung is sweet when he wants to be and since they've gotten closer, he takes care of Yukhei too. How did Yukhei's feelings towards him change after he found out he'd been dating another guy?

_How to know if you're homophobic,_ he searches one day on the internet, and it drags him deep and dark. Story after story fills his brain as he compares them to his own feelings, and some of them—some of them sicken him. Horrify him. Anger him. How the hell could anyone treat another human like such shit just because of who they love? In the end, Yukhei cries from the experiences he reads in an overwhelming amalgamation of fury and anxiety. What if _he's_ like that?

He startles from the knock on the door.

_"Yukhei?"_ echoes Doyoung's hesitant voice.

Yukhei scrabbles to close the browser windows and wipe his face, but he doesn't manage it in time before the door cracks open. His room is dim, hopefully masking his splotchy face and tissues at his thigh.

Doyoung takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, slowly falling on Yukhei trying everything to hide his face as subtly as possible. Not that subtlety was ever his forte in any capacity.

"...Are you crying?"

"N-No—" His voice cracks. _Concern_ lilts in Doyoung's voice, spawning guilt that coagulates in Yukhei's veins and choke his heart.

Doyoung steps in to move across the room at sit on the bed with enough space left between them like Yukhei is a small, frightened animal that would be scared off with one wrong move. "Did something happen? What's wrong?"

Lies jump up Yukhei's throat, locked in vicious single combat with the truth for the trophy of his tongue. He _hates_ lying, and he's terrible at it anyway, but the risk of Doyoung knowing what's going on threatens to pulverize his soul. Yukhei is already steeped in self-loathing right now. Doyoung's hatred would break him.

The way Doyoung looks at him, eyes tender and filled with such genuine worry—Yukhei breaks anyway. Doyoung jolts at the first sob that wracks Yukhei's body with such force, he doubles over.

"Whoa, hey, okay."

Doyoung scoots further onto the bed and lays a gentle hand onto his back, rubbing in pacifying patterns. Yukhei's skin burns where he's touched because he _doesn't deserve it,_ doesn't deserve Doyoung's kindness and dear heart when all he can think about is how seeing him together with Taeyong is the worst. How could he ever tell Doyoung that seeing him with his _boyfriend,_ someone he _loves,_ riles him up? In what world does that not make him a shit person?

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

"Why are you apologizing?"

Anguish clouds his mind to the point where what he thinks and what comes out of his mouth gets chucked in a blender and comes out to form incoherent, broken sentences—too dangerous to let himself keep babbling. He clams up and his face buries into his hands, fingers pressing into his hairline.

"Okay, alright."

The bed shifts and shifts until Doyoung has coaxed Yukhei into his arms. He does it like it's the most natural thing in the world, like they're close enough that it's not weird, like Yukhei is important to him. There, Yukhei feels warm and safe, those feelings warring with how undeserving, undeserving, _undeserving_ he is. He shouldn't bury himself deeper and deeper into Doyoung's chest, shouldn't find solace in a heart that doesn't beat for him.

But he can't resist. It won't last, and he wants what he can get.

  
  


They don't talk about what happen. Yukhei avoids as much eye contact with Doyoung as possible, but he catches glimpses of worry when he can't manage enough. Questions are written all over Doyoung's face, and he must have confided in Taeyong at some point because now, Taeyong treats him more delicately.

He hates it. He hates that he crumpled in front of Doyoung. He hates that Doyoung selflessly comforted him without knowing the whole story. He hates that Taeyong looks like he cares when he shouldn't. They _shouldn't._

It begins to suffocate him. He doesn't know how to act around them anymore. He can't be around either of them without feeling like shit. He hides in his room when Taeyong is over and interacts as little with Doyoung as he can get away with. It's not fair to them how he's being so cold, he knows, but what else is he supposed to do? Ignoring them is better than hating them.

His internet searches continue to be dead-ends, only serving to worsen his mood. His shit-list of online strangers grows by the day, and constant exposure to all of this trauma is obviously not healthy. Maybe the internet isn't where he should be looking. Maybe he needs someone to talk to—face to face.

This resolve solidifies one day on the bus ride home. In a rare turn of events, he and Doyoung get out of class at times similar enough for them to meet up and head home together. Yukhei secretly savors these days because they sit next to each other and just... talk. Despite the mess his head is, he can't deny that they _have_ gotten closer. Never in his wildest dreams could he have thought that was possible; them sitting side by side and talking about anything and everything.

It sorta sucks that Taeyong was the flame to melt the ice though, but... semantics. Yukhei should kiss the ground he walks on for being the sole factor that facilitated the relationship they have today.

Today though, it's quiet. Yukhei doesn't know how to breach the chasm he split into their earth himself, and Doyoung hardly attempts any small talk, preoccupied by his phone.

Sunset streaks through the bus windows and Yukhei basks in it, letting the warmth soak into his skin and do its very best to relax him. He tilts his head to the cold glass and thinks about listening to music instead of the environs of the bus; murmuring people, vibrations from the road, purring from the motor.

In that moment, exhaustion catches up to him and weighs his eyes closed. The ride makes the position uncomfortable, head jerking on his neck, but that's a problem for Future Yukhei to deal with.

A hand places on his knee. He flinches wide awake.

Doyoung scowls at him. "Relax, jesus," he tuts. "Don't sleep like that, you'll hurt your neck."

Out of his bag, he pulls a thin windbreaker and begins to fold it up. Yukhei watches, puzzled by it and the fact that Doyoung is _talking_ to him. Doyoung puts it on his shoulder and then pats it.

"Here, at least you'll have some cushion. I..." He coughs to cover up pink on his cheeks. "My shoulders are bony, I had to improvise."

All Yukhei can do is stare until Doyoung visibly starts to redden. Annoyed, he reaches up to Yukhei's head and gently pulls it down, resting it on the makeshift pillow.

"Don't be stubborn," he murmurs. "If you're tired, you can rest here."

Emotion clots in Yukhei's throat and his nostrils burn. His eyes are closed but tears coalesce on the rim of his lids anyway. He chokes it back though; he chokes it all back, swallows it down, and buries it deep where even he won't be able to find it.

Muscle by muscle, he unravels to relax onto Doyoung, whose body heat helps him along.

"You know," Doyoung murmurs again, "whatever you're going through... It helps to talk to someone." A hand falls to Yukhei's knee again, and he carefully keeps still. "I... It doesn't have to be me, but... Don't keep it bottled up, Yukhei."

And Yukhei decides then and there, he will. He has to.

This moment, bathed in sunlight as dust motes glitter through the air, deserves to be immortalized. He'll probably cling to it for the rest of his life.

  
  


That was the calm before the storm.

  
  


It's already been an unholy day: he bombed a complex analysis test at nine AM, had a drink spilled all over him without spare clothes somewhere around eleven-thirty, a project mate from Topology _still_ hasn't turned in their portion of the work that's due in three days, _and_ he bumped his head because he hadn't watched where he'd been going when he'd been trying to escape it all. With a killer headache and all of that under his belt, he drags into the apartment feeling like ass, only to see Taeyong sitting crisscross on the couch who looks up the moment he comes in and offers a small wave.

They stare at each other a long moment and Taeyong eventually frowns. Heat flares in Yukhei's face when he pauses at the sight, and he immediately makes a heavy-footed beeline for his bedroom, ignoring Doyoung's greeting entirely. He flings closed his door, and something slams on the kitchen counter.

He needs space. He needs to get out of here, if only for a few damn days. Seeing Taeyong constantly—seeing him and Doyoung _together_ constantly grates on him now. If this goes on, he's afraid of his temper.

He violently shakes that thought away. No, he'd never hurt them. He'd hurt himself first. Stormy tears well in his eyes.

He needs someone to talk to.

Getting a duffle bag, he jams his phone between his ear and shoulder after dialing his best friend's number.

_"You're really calling at almost midnight, dude?"_ drones Mark's familiar voice, half-asleep.

"I'm coming over," Yukhei says gruffly, yanking clothes out of his closet and stuffing them into the bag.

What sounds like sheets rustle. _"Huh? What's up? I mean, I don't mind man, but—"_

"I just—" His voice catches. "I need space right now."

_"Space?"_ Mark pauses, and then his voice speaks away from the receiver. _"It's Yukhei, babe, best friend?"_

Yukhei's brows knit—Mark must be talking to his girlfriend. He hadn't even considered that, but he can't think of anywhere else to go either. He swallows thickly.

"Is—Is it alright?"

_"Yeah,"_ Mark unclogs sleep out of his voice, _"yeah man! Don't sweat it, c'mon over whenever you're ready."_

Relief surges through him as he spitefully zips the bag up. "Thanks, man. I'll be there in a sec."

A knock rattles the door just as he hangs up and doesn't wait to be answered before its flung open. Yukhei spins to come face to face with Doyoung—he looks _pissed,_ and trepidation punctures Yukhei's stomach.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?" Doyoung hisses.

Taken aback, Yukhei goggles. Then, anger rushes him. "Excuse me?"

Doyoung's eyes narrow dangerously. "Yeah, _excuse you._ Do you think acting like this is acceptable?"

"Acting like _what?"_ Yukhei spits back. A finger jabs in his direction.

"Don't act like you don't know, Yukhei. You've been in a bad mood for weeks now—and you're taking it out on us?"

Yukhei scoffs. "What the hell did I do to _you?"_

Doyoung's arms fold vindictively. "Glaring at Taeyong every time you look at him? He tries to be so nice to you and you're basically spitting in his face! Avoiding me when I've been trying to help you? Are you _joking?"_

Being called out so baldly is mortifying—what's worse is Doyoung isn't wrong, but Yukhei won't _admit_ that. Won't admit _why._

"Even if I fucking have, what's it matter to _you?_ Just act like I'm not here! You did before!"

Doyoung's jaw drops. "Are you kidding? When have I _ever_ acted like that towards you?"

_Never,_ Yukhei's mind says, but the anger is speaking for him, not rationality. "You didn't even start being nice to me until you brought your _boyfriend_ over—What, didn't want me to talk shit about you in front of him?"

Bringing Taeyong into the argument like that is a mistake. Doyoung stomps into his personal space, stabbing at his chest with a finger.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ bring him into this, you have no right—"

Yukhei leans into the touch, daring. "No right? No _right?_ You bring him over all the fucking time, he might as well live here!"

_"I_ live here!" Doyoung shouts back in his face. "He's my fucking _boyfriend,_ where the hell _else_ am I going to bring him?"

_"Anywhere but fucking here!"_ Yukhei roars. "So I don't have to fucking SEE Y'ALL!"

And _that—_ Doyoung freezes. Yukhei's stomach drops and blood pounds in his ears, the words screaming in the pregnant silence. They stare daggers at each other for too many long moments, Doyoung in rage and Yukhei because he can't back down now.

The right hook flies out of nowhere.

_"_ _DONGYOUNG_ _!"_ Taeyong screeches as Yukhei spirals into the nightstand. The world rattles in his head and he sees double for several seconds before registering that he'd just been clocked in the jaw, and now he's on the floor gaping up at a fuming Doyoung as a horrified Taeyong injects himself between them.

Seething tears kept at bay for too long finally spill over, a violent hiccup resounding throughout the room. Taeyong looks at him in alarm and appears at his side in an instant, one hand on his shoulder and the other over where Yukhei holds his face, shocked into speechlessness. Yukhei dumbly looks at him through watery vision, stunned mind fishing for words, for _anything,_ maybe to say he's okay and deserved it because panic mars Taeyong's lovely face and Yukhei doesn't want _that._

"Are you—Are you okay—?" Taeyong begins to ask, but Doyoung cuts him off with two words that shatter Yukhei's heart.

_"Get out."_

Ice chills the air and goosebumps prickle painfully at Yukhei's skin. His blood runs cold. Right then, he can't move, can't breathe. Doyoung's chest heaves, like those two words took monumental effort to expel, while his eyes gleam with all kinds of unintelligible, fiery emotion.

_"GET OUT!"_

Doyoung's scream triggers Yukhei into action, and Taeyong immediately reinserts himself between them as if scared Yukhei will attack back—but it's the farthest thing from his mind. He's focused on not collapsing as he clumsily clambers to his feet and snatching up his bag in his clammy free palm. He shoves past both of them, tears still streaming down his face as he trips through the apartment, unable to get out fast enough.

_"Yukhei!"_ he hears called after him, but he doesn't stop. It's over.

It's over.

  
  


An unfamiliar man answers Mark's door—a long, squared jaw, and soft brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

"Oh, you're crying," is what he says, and then looks over his shoulder. "Mark, your friend."

A moment later, Mark appears from behind the man in an over-sized white shirt that may or may not hide shorts under it. Seeing Yukhei's puffy face, his sweet eyes widen from under round glasses and he moves around to gather all of Yukhei's six feet into his smaller arms without hesitation. Yukhei sniffles pathetically, slumping onto him without attention to how he yelps from the weight.

"Whoa, whoa, my legs aren't strong enough for this!" he squawks.

The man shuffles behind them and puts hands to Yukhei's back like they're already familiar, and he gently lifts him off Mark. "Come on, inside. Inside."

Yukhei, zonked, lets himself be guided into the warmth and homeyness of Mark's apartment. Exhaustion of every form permeates down to his marrow, leaving him to flop down onto the couch after his bag is taken. Voices murmur above his head, but he just sniffles and hiccups and feels bad for himself, wallowing in the stress and self-loathing that's built up over the last however-long. He deserves misery. May happiness forever forsake him.

"Yukhei," Mark's voice, albeit a little awkward, coaxes up his attention from where he's trying to suffocate himself in the pillow. He settles on the couch too. "Do... you wanna, uh, talk about it?"

He shakes his head. Mark makes a little _"Ah..."_ noise and then clears his throat. "Gimme something here, man."

Yukhei snivels grossly. _I just wanna sleep..._

The other man comes back into the living room with a thick blanket folded under his arm and a pillow tucked into the other.

"Oh, great. Thanks, babe."

_Babe,_ Yukhei thinks blearily. Mark gets up and helps adjust the blanket and pillow.

"Come on, you should change into more comfortable clothes," says the man. It's nice of him to care when they don't even know each other... Not that he'd want to know someone like Yukhei anyway. Who could blame him?

"N-Need help?" Mark squeaks as Yukhei sways to his feet.

He shakes his head while hiding his throbbing face, but hands grab his shoulders and steer him to the bathroom anyway, hands that aren't Mark's.

"I'll do it," he hears.

A minute later—or an eternity, time is all wonky right now—he's under the harsh fluorescence of the bathroom, guided by ginger hands that don't feel like they belong to a stranger. He's like the worst part of drunk; the gagging, nauseous, lost part, but god, he's not even lucky enough to _be_ drunk. He fucking _wishes._ He wants to drink himself under several tables until they're his casket.

"Can you change yourself?" asks the man, the man living with Mark who Yukhei still doesn't know. He nods slowly anyway. "Are you sure?" Skepticism underlines the tone, but Yukhei isn't gone enough to let a stranger undress and dress him again. "Alright. We'll be outside if you need anything."

The door closes, leaving Yukhei in silence. Humming ventilation sounds more like screaming, and his every atom buzzes unpleasantly with it. He turns to the mirror.

In it is a sallow and sunken man, dark circles under his eyes, and a rapidly bruising welt on the left side of his face. That'll be a pain to explain. Or maybe he'll just lie some more until it ends with someone punching his lights out. He can feel his pulse in it.

Nothing feels real as he pushes one leaden limb after the other through loose nightclothes. His face hurts. His eyes are puffy. His mouth is cottony. This miserable, and he deserves ever second of it.

  
  


Mark is sat on the couch when he finally comes out, murmuring with his roommate-person-guy—whoever. They pause to look at him, and his fists curl and loosen in turns while he's unsure what to do. Mark's eyes widen.

"Your face..." His voice trembles as he unsteadily gets up. In front of Yukhei, he tries to gently cusp it, but ashamed, Yukhei turns his head away. Mark reluctantly retreats and turns back to the couch to pat the pillow and blanket laid out for him. "You look like hell, man. Why don't you get some rest?"

The roommate steps aside to let Yukhei through, and Yukhei has no problem flumping onto the couch and curling up in the blanket, shoving his face deep into the pillow in the hopes of death by suffocation. A moment later, one of Mark's hands slips into his hair, fingers running through like they've done hundreds of times in their life, and his eyes droop close on their own. He wouldn't have lasted long anyway; keeping them open has been an uphill battle since he stormed out of his apartment.

Quiet voices murmur over him, and the drone combined with the fingers soothing his scalp lulls him away. The last shreds of consciousness think it would be nice if Doyoung did this too.

  
  


Yukhei wakes up late. Very late. Those early afternoon classes screech his name as his first conscious thoughts, but then he's told to lay back down, roll over, and get some more sleep. He does just that.

  
  


When he wakes up again, the front door is opening and footsteps come inside.

_Doyoung must be back from class,_ says sleepy thoughts, but when his heavy, swollen eyelids drag open, Mark walks through with a bag slung over his shoulder. He checks on Yukhei first thing.

"Hey, you're awake." He offers a faltering half-smile, eyes unmistakably falling onto what now must be a huge bruise on his face.

Anguish swamps Yukhei's system that takes astronomical effort to contain.

When he isn't at risk of falling apart, Yukhei rolls up to sitting, back aching and spine protesting, and rubs at his puffy eyes. He smacks his lips a few times, acutely aware of how his mouth tastes like shit.

"Water?" Mark asks, already setting down his bag and heading to the kitchen.

Yukhei nods without being seen, and then accepts the glass to chug it. Some water leaks from the corner of his mouth, and he wipes it away. More aware, he glances around the apartment.

Right. He's not at home.

Mark continues to move around while Yukhei shifts lifelessly on the couch, caught in a daze where everything is numb and nothing feels real. He hears words but can't process them. A hand shakes his shoulder.

"Dude."

Mark worries down at him, brow furrowed, and then he carefully sits down next to him.

"You don't look okay, man. Like..." He pushes his hand through Yukhei's dark strands. Yukhei becomes aware of how gross he feels. He needs a shower. And to drown in it. "You're not sick, are you?"

He slowly shakes his head. Mark bobs his to the side.

"Well, you look like death. You should eat something—Yuta should be on his way back, I can ask him to pick us up a late lunch, huh?"

Imposing, imposing, imposing, and Yukhei wants to say no because he's already being such a damn burden. Leave it to his stomach to growl on miserable cue. Mark laughs, not unkindly.

"Alright, I'll give him a call. Hang tight."

He already misses his friend as soon as he gets up, but he knows it's only because he wants comfort. He needs a shower.

Slowly unfurling from his depression pile, his long limbs stretch out, and he pushes until the world fades in and out of static. Sleep is so thick on his face that his eyes have a hard time staying open, and he decides yes, he will shower.

His bag rests next to the foot of the couch and he squats at it, knees cracking uncomfortably—he's barely twenty-two, why are his knees acting like he's already fifty? He mindlessly rummages through it, annoyed by how everything is tangled thanks to the fact that he'd shoved it all together in a hurry to leave. His knees, creaky, add to his frustration, and before he knows it, he catapults the stupid thing against the couch, heaving a sob.

"Yukhei, Yukhei, Xuxi!"

Hands grab his shoulders and he collapses backwards, weight barreling right into Mark's chest and knocking away his breath.

_"Heavy,"_ Mark wheezes.

"Sorry, sorry," Yukhei croaks brokenly, trying to pull himself together. He weakly lifts himself off and turns to offer a trembling hand to Mark rubbing at his chest. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Dude, relax, I'm good." He's a little hoarse, but he pats a fist against himself to show how he's in one piece. "Are _you_ okay? God, you're crying again..." He reaches onto the small side table for a box of tissues. Yukhei pushes it away even when snot is starting to leak from his nose. "Yukhei..."

"Shower," Yukhei mumbles, "I'm gonna shower..."

Frowning, Mark puts the tissues back and gets to his feet to help Yukhei up. He gasps with the exertion. "Help me out here, man, you gotta work with me."

Yukhei doesn't _mean_ to be like this, he knows how burdensome he's being, but energy has deserted him. His will to live seems to be right on its heels.

Still, he musters enough strength to avoid crushing Mark and lets himself be once again guided to the bathroom. He plops onto the closed toilet seat and Mark heaves, hands on his hips, to catch his breath.

"What else... can I do... for you...?"

This is the part where Yukhei would usually take a witty crack at Mark's noodle arms, but his heart isn't in it. His heart isn't anywhere near here, actually. It's on the floor of his bedroom, shattered, and he swung at it with a metal bat himself.

"Clothes..." he mumbles hoarsely.

Mark nods valiantly. "Clothes, right. I can do that." He starts to turn away and then pauses to raise an angled hand back at Yukhei. "Just... Don't make me carry you again—I _will_ die."

It's supposed to make him laugh, but he just nods numbly. When the door closes, his face drops into his hands.

  
  


In a shocking turn of events, the shower helps. By the time he steps out, Yukhei is a little more alive thanks to the hot water (he'll offer to cover part of their utility bill this month, he wasted a lot of it just standing there and staring at the tile like it'd offer absolution) loosening his muscles and his facial routine helping his swollen eyes.

"Hey," Mark cautiously greets when he comes out of the bathroom at last, towel draped over his head. He and his roommate—Yu... ta?—are sat at the table already eating, though Yukhei spots utensils and a takeout container set aside for him. His stomach growls again.

"Hey..." he replies, trying not to sound awkward. In hindsight, the lifeless despair he's been subjecting these two to since last night is both degrading and completely unfair to them. He shuffles to the seat they pulled up for him. "Sorry..."

"No, no," Mark says quickly, moving a few things to make more space. "No apologies. It's cool, bro."

Yukhei lowers himself into the chair and shrugs the towel around his shoulders.

"Sorry for what?" asks the roommate, leaned on one tucked in arm as the other is propped by the elbow, surprisingly coherent for how his mouth is around food.

"Hyung," Mark says quickly as Yukhei blinks at him.

"Mark," the roommate—Yuta, right—replies in the same tone. He looks back at Yukhei. "What are you sorry for?"

Yukhei opens his mouth. "I... Uh..." His overwrought brain strains for literally _any_ excuse he can give them, scared that Yuta expects a certain answer, and his heart jumps at not being able to come up with one fast enough.

"Exactly," is what Yuta says. "So don't apologize."

Yukhei's cheeks heat up, but the words are reassuring... kind of.

Mark slowly goes back to chatting with Yuta while Yukhei taps his chopsticks properly into his fingers and begins eating after thanking them for the food. The savory flavors hit his tongue, and suddenly, his appetite takes the wheel. It's just that—it consumes his mind so much, he doesn't realize that Mark gets up to return with that same box of tissues.

"Oh," he says dumbly around a mouthful. He's crying again.

"Whenever—If," Mark quickly corrects himself, "you're ready to talk about it, I'm here."

Yuta waves a hand. "Same. We just met and everything, sort of, but same."

Yukhei deliberately chews his food to avoid breaking into more tears that might choke him, and then wipes at his face. "Thanks..."

The rest of the meal, he sits through and listens to them talk.

Afterwards, Yukhei tries to get up to help clear the table, but Mark won't have any of it and orders him to relax for a little bit. He swallows thickly, guilt creeping back up because he's nothing but a bum right now, but Yuta pats his shoulder, leaving it at that.

Left with nothing better to do, Yukhei watches. They flow around each other naturally, like they've done it their whole lives; it's fascinating. He wonders if he and Doyoung ever looked like that, but—No, not likely. Swap him out for Taeyong though, and the picture would basically be the same.

He sees Yuta place a hand at the small of Mark's back. Doyoung and Taeyong probably did things like that, too.

_Huh._

A few hours more spent as a useless lump gives it time to click in Yukhei's head. Mark and Yuta are playing Tekken, wrapped in a heated battle of jabs and sabotage on the adjacent couch when he blurts it out.

"Are y'all dating?"

Mark chokes on his spit, and Yuta promptly uses that to his advantage to land a combo that utterly demolishes Mark's character. He cheers without caring that Mark is dry-heaving next to him.

"We—Yukhei—You—"

"Yeah," Yuta finally answers, deciding that's the time to check if Mark (his boyfriend, they're dating, huh, fascinating) will live to see his next birthday. "We're dating."

_We're dating,_ and the information slots into place like a freshly spliced wire firing his brain back to life.

"Mark!" he exclaims without thinking. Mark startles, something fearful on his face that Yukhei misses. "You didn't tell me you got with someone! I've never even met this dude, and you _got_ with him?!"

Yuta's jaw visibly grits.

Mark gawks, and then laughs in disbelief. "What are you, my _dad?"_

"Bro," Yukhei whines, scooting to the edge of the chair. "we tell each other everything man, how could you?!"

Yuta seems to relax.

Mark hops up to exuberantly pile into Yukhei's lap, who dramatically throws his arms around his middle. "We've been so busy, man, I couldn't find the time to tell you!" He pulls back, pouting genuine apology. "Really man, I wanted to introduce you sooner, but our class tracks don't even cross!" Grinning broadly, he looks back at Yuta, who's now smiling softly at them. "Yuta-hyung, this is kinda late, I know, but this is my best friend, Yukhei!"

Yuta rolls his eyes in good nature. "I already know who he is, you've told me about him. Good to finally meet you though, Yukhei."

Yukhei tries to squirm out from under Mark (who really isn't that heavy, it'd be an easy feat to fling him off, but the weight is comforting) to shake Yuta's hand, and they barely manage with Mark between them.

"Seriously," Yukhei says, thumping back, "I'm happy for you, bro. How long's it been?"

Bright discussion about the relationship bubbles in the room, and Yukhei absently thinks about all of the couples who are around him. (Not true. Only two come off the top of his head, and one of them... Yeah.)

"We actually met through another one of my hyungs," Mark chirps, "I dunno if you'd know him, but he's one of Yuta-hyung's friends too—Lee Taeyong?"

Yukhei freezes.

"Yukhei...?" Mark asks, newly worried.

Yukhei opens his mouth, but it closes again. Swallowing is difficult. He licks his chapped lips.

"I—I know him, yeah." His voice cracks around the edges. Yuta's brow twitches.

"Is there..." He starts, and Yukhei knows what he'll ask.

"No!" he quickly answers, because there's not. Never was. Never will be. "No, he's cool! He's actually _my_ roommate's b-boyfriend..." Memories throb in his jaw and screams swarm his mind, and he ducks his head into Mark's shoulder in a piss-poor attempt to collect himself.

"Yukhei..."

"Give him some space," Yuta says, but Yukhei's arms wind tighter around Mark's waist. Yuta sighs. "Well, at least come over here then. We might break the chair if I try to fit into it too."

Mark awkwardly pries himself free of Yukhei's arms and then leads him to the other couch to sandwich him between the both of them. Yuta's a pretty cool guy who Yukhei already feels like he's known a long time, comforting him like this.

They steer the conversation free of their relationship with Taeyong, just another thing to add to the list of what makes them angelic, though Mark plainly brims with questions that Yukhei is in no way ready to answer. He's not sure if he ever will be.

  
  


Later that night when it's lights out, Yukhei lays on the couch with arms folded under his head, eyes looking into the endless abyss that is trying to see the ceiling. Mark and Yuta are... dating. Dating, Mark and Yuta are. It's slow to dawn on him.

_Oh,_ a single thought long and drawn out. _They're gay._

The abyss envelops him in the late hours at last, and he wonders if one of them will end up punching him for being an asshole, too.

  
  


With the cat out of the bag, Mark lets Yuta coax him into their normal stride around Yukhei. For his part, Yukhei observes with the goal to confirm something. Mark is shy, constantly checking Yukhei's reaction to them over his shoulder, but all he does is smile encouragingly back. Time that should be spent on catching up with the days he's fallen behind on is instead spent on studying Yuta and Mark and how they move around each other.

They're... adorable. Yukhei's heart swells at the sight of them.

But that's all it does.

He tries to dig for those feelings that seeped through when he watched Doyoung and Taeyong, urges himself to marinate in those same thoughts, but nothing comes. For Mark, who he's known most of his life, who's always been so conscious of himself and never relaxed around anyone or let them too close, he's happy. Mark _deserves_ to be happy like this.

Resentment. Agitation. Hurt. None of those are there when he looks at Yuta and Mark. He's more confused than ever.

He resolves to turn to the internet once again despite how deep of a hole he dug himself into last time, but Yuta gets to him first just two days later when they're alone in the small apartment.

"You're very invested in Mark's relationship with me," he says outright; no hesitation, no frills. Yukhei's heart jumps.

"Huh? I—"

Then, Yuta's voice evens out, flattens out, darkens, hardens. "I'll only ask once. Do you have a problem with mine and Mark's relationship?"

Fear spikes through Yukhei as déjà vu blindsides him—this is almost exactly the same conversation he had with Doyoung once upon a time, but looking back on it, he lied through is teeth to his roommate. This time though when the answer tumbles out, he means it wholeheartedly like his life depends on it.

"No! No, I promise!" He physically backs off because Yuta is _scary._ "Please don't hit me, I'm soft." Yuta's burnished stare pierces through him, seeming to search every inch of his being for even a _hint_ of a lie. "I love Mark, he's my best friend—all I've ever wanted for him is to be happy, and you—" He gesticulates frantically. "You look like you make him happy! Really. I'm happy for him, y'all. Whatever! Both of you—yeah. Good." He swallows thickly.

After one last thorough gauge, Yuta's expression eases. Yukhei is freed from the chopping block.

"Okay. Yeah, thanks." He then scoots closer and slings an arm around his shoulders. "So then, if I don't have to beat the shit out of you, should I invite you to join us?"

Yukhei chokes on his spit. Yuta laughs.

After that, Yuta isn't so intimidating anymore, and those words occupy his thoughts.

It startles him how honest he'd been; he really _doesn't_ have a problem with Yuta and Mark's relationship, which is bizarre. He expected to find himself steeped in that same irritation that haunted him back home, but all he feels when he sees them be couple-like is... happiness, for them. He doesn't understand.

The offer to "join them" hadn't been serious, but Yukhei mulls it over anyway. Three people to a relationship? How would that work? Wouldn't all three people be scared of cheating? Is it possible to love more than one person and do it equally? He rubs the bridge of his nose.

The peace and serenity of Mark and Yuta's apartment is a balm for his soul, and he wants to stay around their sweet energy forever, but he knows he'll have to go back eventually. Doyoung will probably end up punching him as soon as he opens the door though. (It'd almost be worth it just to see him again.)

  
  


It's a week and a half after Yukhei had been kicked out that they get an unexpected visitor. Yuta and Mark have easily slot Yukhei into their life with the air cleared between them, and Yukhei revels in it, letting it heal him and kiss away the pain of the bloomed bruise over his jaw.

Yuta answers the door with a name that makes Yukhei's stomach drop.

"Taeyong?"

Mark perks up, but Yukhei freezes to the spot. Their voices murmur from the doorway, but he can't make out what they're saying; Yuta glances back at him, and an ominous feeling rises in his gut.

"All good?" Mark asks from next to him, refusing to cheat at the party video game they're playing. Yukhei startles when Taeyong looks right at him, gripping Mark's wrist, who looks at him in alarm. "Whatsamatter?"

"Yukhei," Yuta says slowly, and fuck, Yukhei already knows where this is going. "Is it alright if you and him talk?"

_How did he even know I was here?_

Yukhei's fingers curl. Mark hisses, slapping his other hand over top. It's not alright, not an any way, shape, or form. His mouth open and closes to try and say that, but he's lost for words.

_I don't want to,_ but Taeyong looks... The lighting is bad, but he looks _awful._ Like he's been crying.

"Xuxi," Mark says gently, now actively trying to pry himself free. "If you don't wanna see him, we'll get him to go."

_Yes please,_ says his head, but his heart screams, _No!_

"I—" He swallows heavily. "Okay."

"You sure?" asks Yuta, entirely serious. Yukhei thinks that even if both of them are close to Taeyong, they'd dismiss him in a heartbeat if it's what Yukhei really wanted. It's comforting.

_No,_ he almost says, but only nods shakily.

He finally releases Mark and rubs where he'd clutched apologetically, hoping it won't bruise. On jelly legs, he rises from the couch and Yuta steps out of the way. Taeyong's eyes are glued to the ground.

As one last out, Yuta puts his hand to Yukhei's shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Yukhei squeezes back and thinks, _If that's what I really wanted and that offer was for real, I'd take it._ It's not what he wants though. He wishes it were. Sealing his fate, he gently closes the door behind him and steps off to the side to give Taeyong space, whose arms are wrapped around himself.

A weird sense of relief and equal sadness swims through Yukhei's chest at the sight of him. He thought maybe that night in the room before he ran out... It'd be the last time. Guess not.

"Uh... Hey," he says awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his sweat pockets.

Taeyong tucks hair behind his ear, hardly looking back. "Hey."

When a moment of painful silence passes, Yukhei goes on. "I... Is there, uh, something I can... Did you need something from me?"

The breath that Taeyong takes is deep and shuddering, and Yukhei can hear it falter slightly.

"I came to apologize," he forces out all at once. Yukhei almost doesn't catch it, but when he does, his brain trips.

"Huh?" he says stupidly. "For what?"

Taeyong's hands squeeze his arms. "What happened last Thursday... I'm sorry."

Confusion twitches at Yukhei's brow, but the ghost of that punch throbs in his jaw and cheek. "That didn't have anything to do with you," he slowly replies.

At that, Taeyong looks up. "Didn't it?" His voice is weak, but the tone is challenging. "I ended up coming between you and Doyoung—you were mad."

Shame burns Yukhei's face. Coming between he and Doyoung, like anything _meaningful_ exists between them. Nothing does. Or ever had. No matter how hard he wishes.

"That... You're his _boyfriend,_ what the hell—" He bites off his rising tone and glances away in frustration, collecting himself. Taeyong doesn't deserve to be yelled at when he'd come to apologize—for something that didn't need apologizing for. "What'd even be between us that you'd fuck up?" he asks bitterly.

Taeyong considers him for a long moment, face cast half in light and half in dark. It sharpens his features, and Yukhei wonders what it might feel like to run his fingers along those cheekbones.

_Wait a sec—_

"You two were close," he eventually says. "I know Doyoung cared about you a lot."

"He did?" Yukhei blurts so fast that he almost cuts Taeyong off. "That's... That's news to me. I didn't—Didn't think he thought we were..." He subconsciously rubs his jaw. The bruise has just started to fade into a sickly greenish-yellow shade. Taeyong frowns.

"...Does it hurt?" He outstretches a hand but Yukhei flinches from the touch. "Oh. Sorry." Hurt flashes across his face, and guilt immediately smacks Yukhei. He swallows again.

"Not, uh, not as much." He laughs awkwardly. "He's stronger than he looks..."

That doesn't draw a smile out of Taeyong at all; not even a twitch of one.

"I'm sorry he did that to you," he responds quietly. "He didn't have a right to."

Taeyong must not know the context of their fight. If he did, he definitely wouldn't be saying that. Yukhei says half as much.

"No." Taeyong shakes his head. "I don't think so, no matter what it was. You didn't deserve that, Yukhei-yah."

_He's so kind,_ Yukhei thinks, softening. _So beautiful and kind. I can see why Doyoung fell for him. Not like me._

He clears his throat, shaking the thoughts away. "Anyway... Sorry you had to come all the way here just to check on me. I'm more trouble than it's worth, honestly."

"You're not," Taeyong says firmly, brow furrowing. "I just... I like you, Yukhei."

Yukhei's heart stops. He gapes at Taeyong.

_Wait, no, not like that stupid. Obviously._

"And I wanted... to apologize for what he did, no matter if you deserved it or not." He runs both his hands over his hair. "And I wanted to tell you we're taking a break, so you can, um, go... back now... If you want. You won't have to see me."

_"What?"_ Yukhei blurts. "You _broke up?!"_

Taeyong flinches. "We—"

Yukhei surges forward to grab his hands, almost completely drowning them in his own palms. _"Please,"_ he begs, eyes newly burning. "Please no, not because of _me."_

Taeyong's eyes are wide now, and Yukhei can see how red they are, how puffy around the edges they are, and he _hates._ Stifling heat shoots through his blood because this is _his_ fault—he couldn't control his _damned_ emotions, and now both Doyoung _and_ Taeyong are hurt in the process.

"Taeyong-hyung, I'm so—" Emotion teeters his voice. "I'm so _sorry,_ this is all my fault, if-if I hadn't just been such a fucking _asshole—"_ His words start to blend into each other, rising in dismay and anguish, and Taeyong quickly frees his hands to gasp his face.

"Yukhei, no. Stop." His voice leaves no room for argument, and his thumbs swipe at the tears already leaking down the sides of Yukhei's eyes. "What's done is done, and in the end, maybe it was everyone's fault."

Yukhei opens his mouth. _That's not true!_ He grasps Taeyong's hands for dear life. _How can you say that?!_

Taeyong shushes him, gentle but unyielding.

"Let's move on, Yukhei-yah. It's okay. We'll be okay."

He says "we" like he means he and Doyoung, but he could mean he and Yukhei—or Yukhei and Doyoung, or... all three of them. His fingers curl tighter and he squeezes his eyes closed.

"You should go back inside, okay?" Taeyong says gently. "And then... I hope you and Doyoung will try to make up soon. He wouldn't want me to tell you, but... I know he misses you."

The admission pangs deep in Yukhei's chest. He misses Doyoung too— _god,_ does he miss him. And he doesn't know how he'll say it out loud, _if_ he can say it out loud, but Taeyong showing up, cradling his face in his compassionate hands like this, comforting him with a sweet voice... His heart is doing all kinds of funny, scary things.

The moment has to end, and he mourns Taeyong's touch as soon as it's gone, but he doesn't dare grab him back.

"Okay..." he says hoarsely, ducking his head. "I, I'll... Soon. Maybe. I'll try soon."

Taeyong offers a consoling smile, and he peeks back up.

"But it's—it's not permanent, right? You didn't... for me?"

His eyes dim at that, and Yukhei's heart sinks.

"I'm going, then," he says without answering.

When his back turns and begins to shrink in the distance, Yukhei feels worse than ever. He drifts back inside in a daze, and as soon as the door closes behind him, Mark is on his feet.

"What happened?"

Yukhei cries in full force.

  
  


How Mark and Yuta haven't kicked him out for being an absolute mess, he'll never know. Instead, they have him once again cuddled between them—or more like, Mark has made his lap his new home and Yuta has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling the three of them snug together. No energy left in him, he thaws into their warmth.

Neither has asked what happened or why Taeyong stopped by. Mark is definitely dying to know, and although Yuta's curiosity is more subtle, they have their limits. They'll be demanding answers by tomorrow's end, and Yukhei won't know what to tell them. Any story he could tell has him as the villain. Right now, he doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't want to think about how Taeyong basically broke up with Doyoung because Doyoung _rightfully_ socked Yukhei for being a piece of shit about their relationship. He doesn't want to think about how much he misses Doyoung's quiet acts of caring and the easy way they shared their days. He doesn't want to think about how Taeyong's touch lingers on his face or how he looked when he slept, and he yearns for _more._

It's too much. What's _wrong_ with him?

Sleep eventually claims him, and huddled into the warmth and comfort of Mark and Yuta, he can't help but wish they were two other people instead.

  
  


Someone had kindly arranged him into a position that wouldn't murder his spine in his sleep, and he wakes up swathed protectively in a blanket he doesn't remember having before he crashed. His first conscious thought is to check his phone, and he groans mutely when he sees he has a little less than an hour before the day's first class. He doesn't. Want. To go. But he's already skipped too much as it is, and Jungwoo is starting to get tired of lending him his notes.

Both Mark and Yuta are out if the quiet of the apartment is anything to tell by, and Yukhei sluggishly sits up, scratching at his head and licking away the sleep in his mouth.

Waking up with no one else around is jarring since it's been a while, seeing as one of the two are usually around before heading out for the day. Back home, his and Doyoung's schedules started at different points, but... Doyoung once mentioned checking up on Yukhei before leaving every day.

He wonders if he still does it out of habit. He's all alone over there, and with Taeyong making himself scarce now... Yukhei doesn't like it. Doesn't like the thought of him being lonely.

He blinks heavily at his lap.

_I have to go back. I have to fix this._

His jaw throbs.

  
  


It's not a hard decision to make, even if he risks being punched again. Doyoung doesn't deserve to be lonely, not because of Yukhei. He waits for someone to come home before leaving since thanking them is the least he can do. Yuta spots the duffle bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Going back?" he asks.

"Yeah..." He rubs his nape. "Think I've, ah, hid here long enough."

Yuta gets up from his work scattered on the table. He looks Yukhei up and down, and then glances at the healing bruise on his cheek. He taps his own with a finger.

"If you don't mind me asking... What happened, exactly?"

Yukhei pauses. How much should he reveal? Would the truth ruin his chances of ever being in his best friend's boyfriend's good graces?

"You don't have to tell me," he eventually adds when Yukhei lingers too long in his head. He shakes it.

"No, I... I haven't even talked about it—I think I should." He licks his lips. "You know Taeyong-hyung's boyfriend—Doyoung-hyung, right?" Yuta's bottom lip protrudes, but he nods. "We're roommates. He moved in about, uh... six months ago, now? It's been a while. I... He... At first, I didn't know he was dating someone—we, like, never talked. Or, he never talked to me. I mean, I tried, don't get me wrong, but... Yeah. Anyway. He brought Taeyong-hyung home one day and it... surprised me, I guess."

They begin to drift towards the couch, and Yukhei sets down his bag.

"I didn't know he was gay..." he says quietly, hands lacing together. "It was... It was new to me, I guess, that's why it surprised me." He expects Yuta's signature cruel snark to chew him out any second, but it doesn't. "That was my first time meeting Taeyong-hyung, and he was so," his fingers reshuffle, "he was so perfect for Doyoung-hyung, and I... I dunno. They were so close, obviously, _obviously,_ but for me, it was... I didn't... like it?" He cradles his face. "God, I don't even know—I felt sorta robbed. _I_ wanted to be that close to Doyoung-hyung, and I got so confused. Seeing them together was like, god. I don't know. I didn't like it. Even now, I'm like, it just... rubs me the wrong way."

Yuta stays quiet.

"It kept going and going—the more I saw them together, the worse I felt. Taeyong-hyung is great, I like him so much, don't get me wrong—I don't know _why_ I started feeling like," his hands pull from his face and start bending towards his chest, "like _this._ Like I _hated_ them, like I never wanted to see them be happy. God, I know how that sounds, I'm so sorry... And then I just—the night I came over, it was already a bad day, y'know? And Taeyong-hyung was over, and the moment I saw him, I just. I had enough. I had to get out.

"Seeing them together, with all the shit I'd been going through, trying to search online for what the _hell_ my problem was—and Doyoung-hyung came after me and got mad at me, and I got mad at him, and I... I made it sound like their relationship... _sickened_ me, I didn't mean to." He starts to choke up. "So he. He punched me. I don't blame him at all. Like, that was completely his right—I would've, too."

His elbows plant on the tops of his thighs and his face falls into the brace of his hands again. "And now... Taeyong-hyung went through all the damn trouble to see me, god, they like, _broke up_ because of me or whatever, and now I'm... I feel like shit, man. I just wanna see Doyoung-hyung again. And Taeyong-hyung. I don't want them to breakup 'cuz of me... I just want them to be happy."

Speaking so much has dried out his mouth, tongue left like sandpaper, and his hoarse voice hangs in the air, the confession laying thick over the atmosphere.

Finally, after an eternity, Yuta huffs a quiet laugh. In disbelief, Yukhei balks at him.

"You think this is _funny?"_ he almost spits, but Yuta doesn't return the heat, instead grasping his shoulder with a reassuring touch.

"Yukhei," he says patiently. "You're _jealous."_

Yukhei stops, blinking several times. "...What?"

Yuta rolls his eyes around in thought, as if searching for a good way to explain.

"Remember that day when I had to check if you were an asshole?"

How could he forget? He's never feared for his life before like that.

"What... does that have to do with..."

"And remember how then I joked about you joining us?" He pauses. "Well, it wasn't much of a joke, I'm sure Mark wouldn't mind—but that's beside the point."

Yukhei doesn't even have the mental capacity to process that at the moment, because Yuta's next words floor them.

"It sounds like you _do_ want that—just not with us."

"Wh-Wh—"

"It sounds like," Yuta goes on, deliberate but clear, "you're jealous because you want Doyoung. You _like_ him—but now it sounds like you like Taeyong, too."

Yukhei blinks several more times. It feels like someone is playing Tetris in his brain, and the last piece is dropping into place.

"You're not a bad person, Yukhei. You're _jealous_ because you like two people already in a relationship."

His hand slowly rises to his mouth, and he drags it down. "But I'm not... I don't think I'm..."

Yuta shrugs lightly. "Labels are just labels if you want them to be. They don't have to mean anything to you personally, you know." He pats his back. "The heart wants what the heart wants, right?"

The sun crests over the horizon. Blinding light bleeds onto the world. Babies are born, and birds fly free. Yukhei is in love. Twice over.

"Oh... my god..."

Yuta laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

  
  


After what feels like ages, Yukhei stands in front of his apartment door, weight shifting again and again on their ratty little welcome mat that he picked out and Doyoung indulged him in. His keys dangle from one hand, hovering shy of the lock, while a small wicker basket with specially assorted treats hangs from the other.

It's Monday, and that's why he hasn't gone right in; Doyoung doesn't have classes on Monday, so there's a good chance he'll be home and out in the living room. Yukhei doesn't know how to act if they immediately see each other. A sheepish, _"Sorry?"_ won't be enough by a long stretch. His home or not, it won't be right if Doyoung doesn't accept him back.

Still. He's determined to make things right, determined to apologize and hope he'll be forgiven, so he takes a deep breath and unlocks the door.

It opens with the loudest creak ever heard by man, second only to the pounding of his heart. Trepidation lights every one of his nerves so blindingly that he almost doesn't notice the strange emptiness of the living room. Almost. Things are... missing. His stomach drops.

His head turns around the room as he puts his things down on the table where textbooks and loose paper are usually found, but it's cleared. Even that little decorative bowl with watermelon and peach candies is gone. Alarmed, he throws his head in the direction of Doyoung's bedroom door.

His legs feel leaden and his steps are small and frightful until the suspense tries to strangle him, spurring him to rush to the room. He throws the door open without knocking.

No Doyoung here either, but the room isn't completely barren. Yukhei slumps against the door, worst fears temporarily quelled. He hazily searches as if Doyoung might pop out of some corner and declare this all a hilarious prank to break Yukhei's heart, but the longer his eyes roam, the more he realizes that like back in the living room, things are missing—enough that it feels like pieces of Yukhei's heart have been stolen with them.

_He's... leaving?_

Dazed, Yukhei wanders back out and ends up wilting onto the kitchen counter, head dropping onto folded arms. At the edge, his brow twitches in furrow at noticing a folded piece of paper. Dread _plip, plip, plips_ low in his stomach as he slowly reaches for it, limbs wading through molasses to get there. No address is on it, but Yukhei knows it's for him. Shaky fingers unfold it.

In Doyoung's neat, cold scrawl: _I'll be back for the rest while you're out._

Yukhei almost vomits.

  
  


The obvious solution is to just skip classes—but Doyoung didn't say which ones he'd come during, meaning Yukhei would have to skip all of them. He drops his head in his hands.

_That's stupid. I'm stupid. This is all my fault._

What other option does he have, though? Doyoung's schedule is basically a mystery to him, and he doesn't know anyone who could clear that up. Well, he _does,_ but he can't exactly call Taeyong up like this. Not like _this._

Where is Doyoung staying anyway? Is he safe? What the hell is Yukhei supposed to do, look for a new roommate? His heart clenches painfully at the thought. He doesn't want to. He has to fix this.

He _will_ fix this.

  
  


True to his word, Doyoung seems to slip back to their apartment when Yukhei is out. Every time he comes home from class, he rushes to check what's missing. Some days, the rooms stay the same and leave him to hold out hope that Doyoung will miraculously change his mind on his own, only for new things to be gone the next. Time is outpacing him.

Every solution he thinks of ends in one dead in after another. If he leaves notes for Doyoung with things like, _Can we talk?, I want to see you, We need to talk, Wait for me, I'm sorry,_ they go completely ignored, untouched where left in places they’d definitely been seen.

Desperation has run him into a corner so tight that his thumb is hovering over _Send_ for a message to Mark, asking if he could get Taeyong's number. Yes, he does hate it. No, he doesn't know what else to do. He's just. Out of options. He's already caused Taeyong so much pain that this whole idea claws in and leaves him raw. How's he going to be the source of the problem, and then drag one of the people he hurt into fixing it?

His phone screen goes dark. He sighs.

Self-flagellation never got anyone anywhere, so he tucks it away for now and focuses on the end of the line. If he can just talk to Doyoung... If he can just talk to him...

  
  


[19:24] _who is this?_

Yukhei's eyes become saucers, phone almost leaping out of his hands when the notification vibrates. His fingers are stupidly shaky when he types a reply.

[19:24] _hi. im so sry about this. its yukhei  
_ [19:25] _pls dont be mad, i asked mark for your number_

He swallows thickly, worrying that the blocked notification will pop up any second.

Whatever god is listening to his prayers has mercy on his poor soul, because he gets a _reply._

[19:26] _oh. hi yukhei-yah. are you okay?_

Emotion thickens in Yukhei's throat. Taeyong is so kind. So thoughtful. Has probably never done a single thing wrong in his life, with enough heart to spare on an asshole like him. If he gets through this alive, he'll find a way to give Taeyong every damn thing he's ever wanted.

[19:27] _yeah im fine no worries  
_ [19:27] _uh  
_ [19:27] _i was wondering actually.  
_ [19:28] _i cant get in contact with doyoung-hyung at all...  
_ [19:28] _and i was wondering. if you could. possibly. u dont have to!_

[19:29] _yukhei-yah. tell me what it is already._

The periods make Yukhei's heart jump and demand he stop beating around the bush. His thumbs flurry across the screen before second-guesses devour his mind, and he taps Send.

[19:30] _woudl u pls give em his nuber?_

Cringes threaten his spine at all the typos, but the request is out there and takesies-backsies are for cowards. Yukhei has had enough of being a coward.

Minutes pass and tie increasingly intricate knots out of his guts. He probably _definitely_ stepped over the line, and now Taeyong will block him and he'll never figure out how to communicate with Doyoung and he has to worry about rent and not one, but three broken hearts and how can someone ever replace Doyoung as a roommate why did he waste that so _hard—_

A ping shocks him out of spiraling, and he fumbles with his phone so hard that it almost falls out of his hands again. He hurries to push his hair out of his face as his eyes read over the message feverishly.

[19:36] _he'll probably block you once he knows it's you_

His heart drops and he collapses back against the couch. Of course. What was he thinking? Every hope of fixing this fuck-up leaks through the cracks of his broken heart, and his phone slips to his side as tears well up in his eyes.

Then it vibrates again.

[19:38] _if you're really serious about this  
_ [19:38] _then I can give you his class schedule._

Renewed life bursts through Yukhei as he flies to his feet, eyes popping out of his skull. His fingers act before his brain.

[19:38] _yes! YES!!! yess eyes yse eyes yes_

When the immediate euphoria passes, he remembers his manners.

[19:39] _please. yes. im sorry, yes pls  
_ [19:39] _thank u sooooo much hyung oh my god  
_ [19:39] _ill do u any favor u want anytime just lemme know  
_ [19:40] _hyung i mean it. thank you._

The screenshot that Taeyong sends him reflects in his gleaming eyes, smile splitting his lips wide.

[19:41] _you're sweet, but don't worry about it.  
_ [19:41] _I hope it works out  
_ [19:42] _I'm rooting for you! fighting!!!_

[19:43] _no ill definitely make it up to u hyung, promise._

Yukhei is already busy committing Doyoung's schedule to memory and doesn't pay attention to the last message Taeyong sends.

[19:46] _you already are._

  
  


Between all of his own schedule, Yukhei is splitting hairs trying to plan around rushing to a completely different building and navigating its maze just to find one of Doyoung's classrooms. He has to wait days before he can even _think_ about it, trying and failing to bend time and space to his will to help out just a little. On top of that, now that seeing Doyoung again is a real possibility, what will he say? How will he say it?

_"It sounds like you do want that—just not with us."_

Confess? Will he confess? Will he have to? His throat is thick at the thought, but he drove himself into this corner and now he's the only one who can crawl out of it, and that might be the only way.

Coming clean won't fix everything, no matter how much he pretends, knowing Doyoung—and Yukhei would have to be fine with that. It'd hurt, but he'd deserve it. Besides, apologizing while hoping for forgiveness isn't much of one at all. He'd be wasting his breath. Doyoung _deserves_ an apology; simple as that.

Hopefully, his relationship with his roommate won't be the only thing it'll mend.

  
  


Almost two weeks to the day Yukhei got Doyoung's schedule, he's finally figured out when and where he'll wait to talk to him. It's a long shot, the longest he's ever taken, but he's an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

So, heart beating dangerously fast and sweaty palm clutched around that same pale wicker basket, he waits outside the lecture hall, looking busy with his phone in the other hand. The few people who pass by hardly pay him attention, but every sound booms in his ears, setting his nerves further on end. His eyes are practically glued to the phone clock, watching the minutes crawl by, anxiety swirling in his chest the closer the time gets.

_You can do this. You can do this. For Doyoung. Doyoung-hyung. You can do this. For Taeyong-hyung. If you care about them, Wong Yukhei, you'll do this._

And he does. _God,_ does he. It took someone else laughing at him and flat-out spelling it for him to realize—hey, he's never claimed to be the brightest!—but he likes both of them so much, wants to spend time with both of them so much, daydreams about them letting him slot snugly into their sweet dynamic. Doyoung's private tenderness for Taeyong, Taeyong's soft gentleness for Doyoung...

Bile rises in Yukhei's throat. He _ruined_ that. They had something special, something precious, and he fucked it up because of jealousy.

Apprehension spikes in his stomach when the lecture hall door opens. Yukhei jumps further off to the side, phone crying for dear life in his sweaty grip as his eyes bore into it, trying to go as unnoticed as possible. A few passing students glance his way and he internally cringes at how awkward he must look (he's a big boy, he knows it's impossible to miss him), but he keeps his peripheral peeled for one in particular.

The flow of students eventually becomes a trickle, seconds dragging between appearances until the classroom seems empty. Yukhei blinks.

He double-checks the time and date, the course name and number, and he _knows_ this is the right—

"Yukhei?"

He jumps out of his skin, tripping back into the wall and banging his head. He yelps. Tears spring to his eyes at the sharp pain and he rubs at his hair, frowning and wincing.

"...Yukhei."

His eyelids flutter and he shakes himself out to see Doyoung staring at him, unimpressed and unamused with his zero-to-sixty mess.

"Hyu..." His voice catches and he forcefully clears his throat. "Hyung..."

The familiar honorific seems to surprise him, and Yukhei curses himself. In the note Doyoung last left before straight up disappearing, his tone had been formal. Distant. Like goodbye. Yukhei doesn't want that though, and he'll prove it.

"What are you doing here, Yukhei?"

His voice betrays nothing, kept neatly clear of all inflection or indication on how he feels about seeing Yukhei.

Yukhei's mouth flaps open, but nothing comes out. Getting this far was a miracle, and now that he's looking at Doyoung, more weary than ever but still somehow so attractive with black hair laid over his forehead and round spectacles perched on the soft curve of his nose, he can't believe his eyes. Seeing his face again is like pulling it right out of his dreams, so real and in front of him.

He might cry.

"Are you going to cry?" Doyoung asks.

_"No,"_ he answers too quickly. (Unshed tears already burn in his nose.)

Doyoung glances at the basket in his hand, shakes his head, and starts to turn away. "If you don't need anything, I'm leaving first."

Yukhei's heart clenches at the sight of his sharp shoulder blades through his shirt. "Wait!"

A few passersby raise eyebrows at him, and by the way Doyoung sighs heavily and stops, he probably wants to be anywhere but there at the moment.

"Yukhei," he says in measure, tone flat and cold, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but this won't help anyone. I've already paid my share of the rent for the next three months in advance, that gives you enough time to look for a new roommate. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

He turns and starts to walk away again, and Yukhei is so struck in the heart that he's rooted to the spot until Doyoung disappears down the hall.

_"Let's leave it at that, okay?"_

He didn't even have time to apologize. The basket weighs a ton in his hand, threatening to drag him through every floor of this building and leave him suffering in the pits of hell. His throat works around grief that needs to be saved for later—because Doyoung is _not_ getting away that easily.

Furiously rubbing his eyes and smacking pep into his cheeks, Yukhei charges down the hall and hopefully in the same direction Doyoung left in.

He catches him just outside of the building, carving through milling students to get there.

"Hyung!" he calls, and annoyed people quickly shove around him. He determinedly weaves forward until he can grasp one of Doyoung's shoulders. "Hyung!"

Doyoung whips around to slap Yukhei's hand off. _"Enough._ Stop this, Yukhei." he hisses with a chilling glare.

"No, I won't!" He knows he sounds like a child throwing a tantrum, but he has to get this all out before it can slip through his fingers. "Just hear me out, _please,"_ he begs. "I wanna apologize!"

He tries to step closer, but Doyoung's palm spreads over his sternum and firmly keeps their distance, eyes blazing. "I don't want your fucking apology, I want you to leave me _alone!"_

Around them, bystanders are slowing to watch and murmuring among themselves. Yukhei knows what it looks like, knows how bad it looks, but if this doesn't happen now, it never will.

"Hyung, please, _please,"_ he tries again, gently trying to wrap his hand around Doyoung's wrist. His mouth works before his brain can process and he raises the wicker basket, eyes wide and pleading. "I brought cream cheese bread! And that special popcorn you like so much, and—and mango Jellylicious candies, a-and..." He sniffles, voice dying as he helplessly thrusts out the basket.

Doyoung balks at it, then at Yukhei.

"I'm sorry..." Yukhei finally mumbles, knowing it won't be good enough. "I'm sorry for what I did that night, all the stuff I said, how I made you feel, I'm sorry that you and—" He swallows thickly, but before he can continue, Doyoung turns the tables by snatching his wrist, and then begins to drag him off. He stumbles in the wake of the hold. "W-Wait, where are we—"

_"Shut up."_ Doyoung snaps. "Not here. You're unbelievable."

Yukhei's mouth promptly zips shut and he schools his legs (long as they are, they're clumsy right now) into keeping up with Doyoung's unforgiving lightning pace. The grip around his wrist is mesmerizing, simultaneously hot and cold, and Doyoung is _touching him,_ touching him and not by way of sucker-punching his face! Life's crazy.

He hardly realizes through his stupor that they eventually follow a familiar trail to the bus stop that routes homeward. Yukhei's home, that is.

In transit, Doyoung refuses to let go and even forces him into the window seat, like if he were left to his own devices, Yukhei might blow something up (and that probably isn't far off from the truth at the moment). The fact that he's even humoring Yukhei at all clamps his mouth shut; one wrong word, and Doyoung will probably sock him again, leave him sprawled on the middle of the sidewalk, and disappear forever. No, he'll be keeping his jaw tightly locked in place until they get back to the apartment, thank you very much.

It's such a stark difference from their last bus ride together that those memories feel simulated, generated from wishful thinking and alternate universes. It's a wretched thing that they're now so bittersweet.

During the ride, Doyoung's fingers tap at his phone screen, typing and backspacing multiple times, but Yukhei doesn't dare spy.

Time blurs by. Yukhei's knuckles are white where his fingers cling to the basket handle to keep grounded; Doyoung glances at it like now and then like he's trying to make sense of its existence. They don't make eye contact with Yukhei determined to keep his gaze trained on the passing cityscape, but he can feel Doyoung's eyes burn into the side of his face at times. He half-expects him to get off at a different stop, but they stay seated by one and other, shoulders pressed together. It's. A lot to deal with.

When they do arrive at their stop, Doyoung is up in a flash and striding off the bus before Yukhei can even blink.

"...Coming?" he expectantly calls in a clipped tone at the doors. Yukhei scrambles out of his seat and after him as he leaves onto the sidewalk.

Doyoung keeps a brisk walk like maybe he'll lose Yukhei if he's fast enough, and Yukhei feels like he has to _jog_ just to keep up. It's a surreal sight to see him pulling a key ring out of his bag to a door Yukhei thinks he hasn't touched in weeks, for an apartment that's been lifeless and lonely just as long, but he watches him unlock the door, and the small part of him budding with hope begins to bloom.

He quietly closes the door behind him, afraid that too much noise will shatter whatever illusion he's fallen into and Doyoung will disappear. Doyoung drops his bag by the kitchen counter after toeing off his shoes and reaches for a glass to fill with water. It's like he hasn't been moving out at all, slot so naturally into place that Yukhei becomes acutely aware of the hole in his heart he's been nursing for weeks.

At the door, he shifts his weight and wets his throat, unsure of what comes next.

"Hyung, I—"

"Shut up. Wait."

He swallows thickly.

"Wait for—"

"Just _wait."_

Baffled, Yukhei blinks several times, but then he slowly nods and takes his shoes off too. With calculated steps, he lightly treads in, putting the apology basket on the table in front of the couch and his bag along with it, and then he goes to his room to take off his jacket. His nerve-endings are on fire under his skin, itchy and uncomfortable, and sweat feels awful in all the worst places.

What are they waiting for? Yukhei stares blankly through his open door from his bed, hands nervously fiddling together while one knee bounces. Knots tie and undulate in his stomach, and he tries to distract himself with his phone, but his focus is too narrowed on the fact that Doyoung is so close, yet so far. Something is particularly unfair about this, but he has no room to complain.

An eon passes that leaves Yukhei near tears with the thoughts tormenting him, and a knock sounds on the apartment door. He almost jumps out of his skin, rushing up and out. He pauses in his own doorway and cautiously glances at Doyoung, who hasn't moved from the kitchen.

"Well?"

And that hustles Yukhei into action, long strides carrying him until he practically yanks the door open.

_"Hyung?"_ he blurts.

Taeyong's eyelids flutter in surprise. "Yukhei," he breathes.

Yukhei shakes his head out and double-takes at Doyoung before looking back. "What are you... I mean. Hyung, you're here?"

Taeyong, just as bewildered as Yukhei is, opens and closes his mouth a few times. "I... Doyoung..." he feebly tries to explain.

Both of them turn at a heavy, exasperated sigh from the kitchen.

"Please don't just stand there," Doyoung says, finally moving to sit on the couch. "Taeyong, if you would." He gestures to the seat next to him.

"Doyoung," Taeyong says patiently, tone bordered on flustered. "What is this?"

Wanting to disappear is starting to climb to the top of the list of Yukhei's desires, because if Doyoung is playing some weird game to break him, it's not funny and he doesn't like it. All he wants is to apologize, not suffer ten levels of humiliation. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe. But he still doesn't want it!

Doyoung's mood is imperceptible as he glances between the two of them, and then he sighs again. Yukhei just feels dumb.

"Yukhei _seems_ to have tracked me down _somehow_ to," he hesitates on the word, conflict flashing over his face, "apologize. I thought if that were the case, it's only right you're here too." His lashes fan along his cheeks in something... sad. "You deserve it more than me."

Guilt sloshes through Yukhei's stomach and settles in the pit, quickly cementing. He swallows back the urge of tears and shakes himself out, steeling up.

"Hyung is right," he says before any second-guessing thoughts can form. "I didn't think he'd—" He glances at Taeyong, whose own face showcases repressed anguish. "I didn't think he'd, y'know, call you here, but two birds, one stone, am I right?" An awkward chuckle tumbles out of his throat, and then he clears it. "Um, yeah... I..."

No one moves and both of them stare at him, gazes shining a spotlight so blinding on him that spots mockingly dance over his vision. Heat flames his cheeks to the tips of his ears and blood drums in his head. He chews on his bottom lip, uncertain of how he's supposed to... do this, uncertain of how to express just how sorry he is other than dropping to his knees and plead for them to hear him out.

"I'm sorry!"

It tumbles out of his mouth without warning to anyone, even himself. Daunted, he tries to scrounge up every planned thought he'd had for this moment, but they all vanish from his head as his heart strings up his brain and starts playing with it like a marionette.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen, I swear I didn't. I didn't mean to come home in a bad mood that night, or make it seem like I hated you, Taeyong-hyung, I promise, you're so good, and I'm—" His voice catches as he glances with panic between them without really seeing them. "I'm _stupid."_ The word comes out ragged.

"I don't know what I was doing, I was being _dumb_ and mean and ugly, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry._ It's because I—" Bile surges up his throat and he sews his lips together.

Taeyong looks at him, undoubtedly uncomfortable but worried, and Doyoung blinks as if unsure what to make of him. His face drops into his hands because the heat is probably melting his skin off and they shouldn't have to witness that gross shit. His nails dig into his forehead.

"It'sb-becauseIwasjealous."

The words are squashed together and half-shouted, half-whispered, and the silence that follows is deafening. Air seems thin in his lungs and his shoulders are pulled taut, heavy on his torso and legs. No one says anything else for a long moment.

Then, "...What?" from Doyoung on the couch. "You, you were... What?"

Yukhei swallows thickly, wishing he could evaporate. "Jealous," he whispers, voice cracking.

Taeyong and Doyoung glance at each other, but before either of them can ask, he babbles on.

"That doesn't—I mean. _Obviously,_ it doesn't excuse my shitty behavior, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry—_ but I—You two were so..." Hysterics border his laugh. "God, I was jealous of Taeyong-hyung because he—I mean, that's your _boyfriend,_ Doyoung-hyung... And he's so," his nose burns and tears prickle at his eyes. "You're so close, and I, I, _I_ wanted that. I wanted to be close to you, hyung, I was mad he was... He was..." He backtracks a few steps to lean onto a wall for support, spine pressed parallel to it.

"I didn't mean to be an asshole about it," he finally heaves, head falling back against the wall as a stray tear finally escapes. "You guys didn't do anything wrong, I promise. Hyung," he says to Taeyong, "I never hated you, I swear, you're great and really awesome and beautiful and you and Doyoung-hyung are so good together, I never wanted you to break up with him because of _me,_ someone like _me._ _"_

"Yukhei..." Taeyong says weakly. "You're not... Don't say it like that. You're not a bad person."

He barks a self-disgusted laugh, brow furrowing as more tears leak free. "I am, though! I _am,_ I was being shitty and awful about y'all's relationship when it was just because I was," he trips over the word that strips him bare, slices open his chest and cracks open his ribs to expose the most fragile part of himself, "j-jealous."

For a minute that witnesses the birth and collapse of a universe, the rise and fall of man, and the funeral of Wong Yukhei, the confession suspends over the scene like an anvil tied up by a splintering rope.

"Okay," Doyoung enunciates slowly, pointedly, unwittingly holding a pair of shears. "You aren't explaining very well, Yukhei. Jealous of _what?"_

There it is. Yukhei's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he frailly gestures between them. He swallows again, heart racing for a new world record.

"Yu... Yuta-hyung told me... I," he licks his lips, raw from being bitten, "that I—wanted to—you... With you... Me... Um." His face falls back into his hands as he slides down the wall.

Silence prevails again, and Yukhei just wants it to end. This is a disaster that can only end in Doyoung and Taeyong leaving for good, and he won't be surprised. It's the least of what he deserves.

Then, in a moment of blessed mercy, Taeyong lets out a little noise of realization at the same time Doyoung whispers, _"...Oh."_

The other shoe is about to plummet into the pits of hell and no one can do anything to catch it. Yukhei contemplates the steps he'd have to take in order to wipe his identity from society and move to a city so busy, no one would be able to find him. No one would miss him.

"You... like me," Doyoung goes on slowly, breaking him from his reverie over twenty-seventh floor apartments in buildings so tall and stacked together they're like a concrete forest, "and you were jealous of Taeyong because of it."

Scraping together nerves enough to look up, Yukhei peeks at Taeyong. He's looking down with rounded out shoulders, almost _ashamed—_ Yukhei springs to his feet.

"Wait, no, hyung," he rushes to clasp both of Taeyong's hands, swallowing them in the hold. "Please, don't look like that, I—I hate it when you look like that, it's not like that—No," he quickly glances at Doyoung and then back. "No, I mean. It _was,_ but then Yuta-hyung told me, after you came to see me, he said..." He takes a deep shuddering breath and lays his neck on the line. "You too. I like you too."

Taeyong blinks several times as a flush blooms over his cheeks in one of the most adorable things Yukhei has ever seen. He physically restrains himself from cupping them in adoration.

Courage suddenly fortifies his system and he stands straighter, using one hand to scrub away his silly tears while the other still holds onto Taeyong.

"I'm sorry," he finally declares, meekness extinguished from his voice. "I never meant to hurt you both like this, I didn't mean to make you think your relationship—both of you being guys—was the problem. It wasn't, I—I promise." He looks between them earnestly, sniffling to catch his breath. "And that night, all those things I said... How I made y'all feel... I never should have—It wasn't right, and I—"

"Yukhei."

Taeyong grabs his face, effectively shutting him up. A small smile tugs at his lips as one thumb strokes over the crest of Yukhei's cheekbone, and Yukhei almost melts into it, only barely stopping himself from grabbing Taeyong's waist.

"I forgive you," he says. He glances off to the side, at Doyoung who is now on his feet, staring at them. "We, I think—"

Yukhei gently grabs one of his hands to stop him, shaking his head and pulling away. He walks around the table to Doyoung, keeping a safe distance in case he might get punched again.

"Hyung." His bottom lip trembles, and _no,_ he won't cry again, it just isn't good form right now. "You, especially, you... You don't have to forgive me, but please don't leave." A sob wobbles onto his tone. "Please don't go, please, I didn't mean to drive you away, I want you to stay, I'll do anything, I'll do everything I can until you forgive me, just—"

He yelps when Doyoung throws his arms around him and jerks him close.

"Oh my god," he breathes warmly into Yukhei's ear. "Quoting shows at a time like this?"

"H-Huh?" Yukhei blurts, arms hovering in shock. He looks over at Taeyong, who's covering a broad smile with curled fingers. Then, he remembers. "Y... You did say he was your favorite character..." he bumbles, raspy.

Doyoung's fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pressing to his back and holding him closer. He tucks his face into Yukhei's neck.

"You're _ridiculous."_

And just like that, Yukhei finally slumps, wraps his arms around Doyoung's back like he's the last thing he'll ever hold onto, and cries.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


"I'm so _tired,"_ Yukhei whines as he plops onto the couch. He sags onto Doyoung, whose legs are crossed with socked feet propped onto the short table, laptop resting over his thighs. Yukhei tilts his head to check the screen. "Whatcha lookin' at, hyung?"

Doyoung hums, distracted, and one hand comes up across his chest to absentmindedly run fingers through Yukhei's silvery hair; a product of Taeyong's recent fashion endeavors. Bleaching had hurt his scalp like hell, but Taeyong's hands are magic, Yukhei is convinced, and it'd all been worth it.

"Nothing," he replies, switching tabs.

Yukhei whines again, louder this time as he tries to burrow all of his six feet into Doyoung's side. _"Hyung,"_ he bleats, "what're you hiding?"

Doyoung wriggles away to pick into the glass bowl filled with candies on the table, and then pulls back to unwrap one and shove it into Yukhei's mouth.

"Mind your business," he says, and then flicks Yukhei on the forehead when he lasciviously tries to keep his fingers in his mouth. "Did you finish your finals review?"

Yukhei groans, shoving the hard candy into one of his cheeks. "Which _one?"_

"So you haven't," Doyoung tuts, pushing him into sitting up straighter. "But I was talking about the classical poetry one."

"Mark's been helping me out with that one," he tries and fails to snuggle back into Doyoung's side. "Stop pushing me awaAaAaAy..." He moves to start tangling every one of his limbs around Doyoung's body, who valiantly tries to ward him off.

"Yukhei, you're too big for this!"

"Hyung, please!"

"Yukhei—I swear—My _laptop—"_

Keys jingle at the door and both of them stop to turn their heads like children caught with hands in the cookie jar. In the doorway, Taeyong pauses at the sight of Doyoung's wrists held above his head by Yukhei's huge grip, his torso bridged precariously over Doyoung's laptop with his core being the only thing keeping it in one piece.

"Don't mind me." He smiles serenely, hanging up his bag and heading for the kitchen after taking off his shoes. "I'll just watch from over here."

"Hyung!" Yukhei laughs, showing mercy and pulling off of Doyoung to scurry after him. Taeyong's smile sparkles as he slides up to wrap around his back, nuzzling his face into his neck and making him giggle. "I missed you!"

Straightening himself out on the couch, Doyoung huffs. "Sure, abandon me as soon as your favorite comes home."

Yukhei gasps in faux offense, head popping up from where Taeyong has reached back to run his fingers through his hair. It looks uncannily similar to a meerkat coming out of its hole.

"How can you say that!" he complains, and then Taeyong yelps as Yukhei effortlessly hoists him up and carries him to the couch.

_"Yukhei!"_ Taeyong guffaws. "Put me down, you brute! I thought we talked about this!"

Yukhei plunks down again, Taeyong falling into his lap as they practically squish Doyoung into the corner cushions.

"Do-hyung wants some love too, c'mon man, c'mon!" Yukhei stretches out to wrap an arm around Doyoung, who viciously swats it away.

"I _want_ space!" he grouses, trying to push them away, "Yukhei, I swear to god, my laptop is still—" He flattens his palm against Yukhei's cheek as he makes increasingly threatening kissing noises for his neck.

"Oh?" Taeyong asks, already blocking the two out as he discovers Doyoung's tabs. "Looking at listings again, huh?"

They pause.

"Lish'ting?" Yukhei asks, half muffled because of his mouth puckered by Doyoung's hand. "Fur wha'?"

Red begins to tinge Doyoung's ears. He pushes his glasses up his nose. "I'm just—checking, is all. As a hobby."

"A hobby, huh?" Taeyong grins knowingly, reaching over to caress his cheek.

"Someone fill me in, please!" Yukhei pouts, squeezing his arm around Taeyong's stomach. "What are we looking at as a hobby?"

Taeyong nudges Doyoung slyly, nodding his chin. Doyoung rolls his eyes, shoving at both of them and fixing up his shirt.

"A king-size bed won't _reasonably_ fit into either of our rooms," he explains, but sees that Yukhei doesn't follow by the way he blinks his large eyes. "And I'm getting tired of trying to squeeze into one of ours when Yong is over. We need something more spacey, and I figured since I was picked for the paid internship—I know, I'm still shocked too—we could..." His lips purse, head turning to hide a blossoming blush.

Yukhei's eyes go wide and his mouth turns into an equally round _O._ He looks excitedly at Taeyong, who nods indulgently.

"For real?!" he exclaims, making both of them wince. He quickly apologizes, lowing his tone. "You're looking—so we can—We can live together?" His voice trails off into an awed whisper.

Doyoung petulantly crosses his arms and huffs. Seeing what's coming, Taeyong finally grabs the poor laptop and safely puts it away, all right before Yukhei wraps his other arm around Doyoung's waist and pulls him in, squeezing and squealing.

"When were you gonna tell me!" He places a messy smack of a kiss on his cheek, and Doyoung grunts and groans.

"Yukhei, quit it," he complains. "You're like an over-sized dog, I swear, this is why I was waiting to tell you."

"But," _kiss,_ "hyung," _kiss,_ "that means we don't have to _not_ see each other," _kiss._ "I can just jump into bed with you guys anytime I want! Oh my god, that's crazy, anytime I want?"

Taeyong watches fondly, legs tangling with Doyoung's as he laughs.

"You're just as bad," Doyoung chastises, glaring, "spoiling him."

Taeyong rolls his eyes affectionately. "Please, like you didn't want the big bed just for him. You were sizing up your rooms just to see if it could fit in one and sulked all day because it didn't work."

"Have you _seen_ him?" Doyoung asks incredulously, still trying to ward off Yukhei's face. "He's the size of at least a very small bear!"

At that, Taeyong buries his face into Yukhei's collar, breath tickling his neck and making him laugh. "I know, but we love him anyway."

Yukhei goes very still under them, hardly noticed in their bickering. He looks between their faces, between Doyoung's exasperation and Taeyong's teasing, and in his chest, his heart swells painfully. Warmth spreads from under his ribs, tingling pleasantly under his skin, to his toes and his fingertips.

"You love me," he whispers. They pause.

"Hmm?" Taeyong hums, still comfortably laying on his collar as he glances up at Yukhei's wondrous expression. "You okay?"

Doyoung catches on first, sighing as if annoyed but betrayed by the absolute adoration twinkling in his eyes. He slides one hand onto Yukhei's far cheek, the other tangling with Taeyong's fingers.

"We do," he says simply. "We love you."

A broad smile splits Yukhei's face, stars in his eyes and the whole world in his arms.

"I'm good," he finally answers, pulling both of them closer. "Great, even."

He laughs, and protesting at overwhelming displays of physical affection echo from even outside the apartment. He's in love and loved, twice over.

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this monster back in mid-november and at the time i did NOT expect it to end up over 20k words long. honestly i'm not even sure how this fic happened, i was just thinking of which nct members would fit into a king's maker AU if lucas was wolfgang, and suddenly doyoung entered the picture. i didn't even KNOW if there was an audience for docas and yet i Could Not get it out of my head. believe it or not, only doyoung/lucas was endgame in my mind at first—taeyong and doyoung were going to breakup for some reason or another, but then i remembered i hated love triangles and loved luyong and THUS...
> 
> oh! i also wanted to mention this was entirely inspired by like. that one reddit AITA post where the dude thought he was homophobic because he didn't like it when his male roommate was with other dudes and it turned out he was jealous because the only dude he wanted him to be with was himself! if the story seemed familiar LMAO
> 
> anyway! i plan to write way more NCT in the future because i'm currently obsessed with lucas/ten. i also would like more NCT writer friends! please! forreal! i'm so lonely since i got to ncity
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/LUKAILOFI) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/raviel)


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